


Making Stock

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Class Issues, Cooking, Literary References & Allusions, Living Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 118,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kaneki was sixteen, he had a summer job at a supermarket.</p><p>This changes things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best Before

"Sorry," a soft, abashed voice to Kaneki Ken's left says, "but do you work here?"

Kaneki looks up. Nearly drops the packet of strawberries he was checking the best before date on. There is a very tall man with purple hair, red eyes, and fair features standing next to him. He has his cellphone in his right hand and a shopping basket in the other. He looks like a model.

"Uh," Kaneki says, very eloquently; he recovers, rather hastily. "Oh! Yes! Yes, I do. Sorry, sorry--how can I help you?"

The man smiles. Small, light, and amused. Kaneki wants to crawl into a hole and die. 

"I'm looking for -"

The man pauses. He looks down at his phone, eyebrows drawing slightly together. He lifts his left hand up, doing an interesting hop-shift with his fingers and wrist to transfer the handles back onto his forearm. He enlarges whatever he has on his screen. It appears to not help very much.

"Cardamom," he recites, somewhat awkwardly, before looking up, "and gin."

Kaneki smiles, hopefully in a friendly and not utterly nervous manner. "Cardamom should be with the other spices. Are you making cocktails?"

The man smiles back. He has a very cheerful face, despite his odd colouring.

"No," he says, clearly enthusiastic, "it's for baking. Thank you -" and he glances over Kaneki's chest for his nametag, "Kaneki-san."

Kaneki shakes his head. "It's no trouble. Let me know if you need anything else."

The man turns with a nod of his head, heading away from produce. Kaneki turns back to checking the best before dates on the strawberries.

Kaneki, for the next two years, doesn't think of this encounter again.

 

Kaneki is eighteen-years-old when he meets the man who was looking for cardamom and gin for baking again.

"As I thought, this place really has calmed down..."

"Welcome -" Kaneki starts before he stops.

It's the man from his summer job when he was sixteen. Standing in the doorway to Anteiku, smiling and greeting Touka and Irimi. Touka seems to know him. Kaneki feels the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Is he a ghoul? But then why -

The man's gaze shifts. Falls on Kaneki. The man blinks. His eyes widen.

"A guy with an eyepatch who repelled an investigator..." the man says, surprise clear. "But didn't we meet before? Kaneki-san from Daiei? Two years ago?"

Kaneki nods. He can feel the incredulous look that Touka is giving him. Kaneki fidgets nervously. 

"It was a summer job."

"Really?" the man says, circling Kaneki curiously, head tilting right to left and back again before leaning in and sniffing. "Ah, but your scent is different -"

"You're getting in the way," Touka gripes from behind the bar, "and you're creepy so hurry up and go away already."

The man glances it at her, pouting slightly. "You're completely inelegant."

He stands up, clapping Kaneki on the shoulder. It's a firm, slightly domineering gesture. It doesn't match, Kaneki can't help but think, what he remembers of the man at the supermarket at all. 

"I'll come back for a leisurely coffee another time," he says, already looking towards the door. "When Yoshimura is around. See you, Kaneki-san. Let's meet again."

Kaneki watches him depart before turning to Touka, who is measuring more beans for coffee. Kaneki leans forward on the bar.

"Who is that guy?"

Touka scowls, looking darkly at the closed front door. "A nuisance to the 20th Ward."

 

This changes things.

The next time Kaneki sees the man from the supermarket is after Yamori. After escaping Aogiri Tree. There is no debauched trip to the Ghoul Restaurant. No kidnapped Kimi. No Nishiki coming to work at Anteiku. Instead, there's the man from the supermarket with a half-moon mask, standing amongst everyone that Kaneki has dared to call friends. He takes off his mask, grinning in amusement at the new plans.

"My name is Tsukiyama Shuu," he says as Kaneki meets his eyes.

"So you are a ghoul."

It makes Tsukiyama laugh, a bright, full sound. He wears a brown pinstripe suit. There's no dirt or blood on him. Kaneki can smell him, though. He smells like fresh blood and ragged flesh. It makes Kaneki's stomach, for the first time in a very long time, growl.

"A ghoul," he says, like there's something infinitely amusing about it. "But so is Monsieur Banjoi, and he claims to be a shield. Me, I am a sword."

Kaneki stares at him. Tsukiyama makes a sweeping gesture. A hand indicating himself. It is a sales gesture. An offer. Limited time. Maybe it's a bad choice, but -

"If you would become our ally, it would be reassuring."

He reminds Kaneki of better days.

 

Tsukiyama Shuu is known as the Gourmet, a S-rank ghoul that is ever in search of new prey and delicacies. He's from a wealthy background and has a prestigious pedigree. He's intelligent, handsome, and athletic. He's known as something of an eccentric and tends to rub people the wrong way.

In truth, Kaneki has no idea what to think of him. He's provided Kaneki and Hinami and therefore by extention Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante a house, food, and an unlimited budget. He has a room in the house, too, but he doesn't live there.

"I'm finishing university," he'd explained the day that Kaneki and everyone else was moving in, "so, until I'm done with that in April, I'm keeping my apartment closer to school."

"And after that?"

Tsukiyama smiled, a little wistfully. He was in the process of labeling the food that he'd brought over. Best before dates. It's nostalgic.

"Well, I suppose I could join the family business," he said, rueful. "But importing and exporting clothing: it sounds interesting, but it's not."

It makes Kaneki miss university life a bit himself, too. It's not important in comparison to taking down Aogiri Tree, but he isn't going to begrudge Tsukiyama his education. After all, Tsukiyama has been nothing but generous. He's even brought over textbooks for Hinami, both age-appropriate and slightly more elementary to help her catch up. 

"Sorry," he says as he unloads the two bookbags of text and workbooks, "some of these are used. My cousin is about your age."

"Jeez," Banjou cuts in from the couch, "don't worry. Nothing wrong with used things." 

It's the first real thing that Kaneki learns about Tsukiyama: he's a worrywart. He's not obvious about it, but Tsukiyama is always the one who injects logic into their plans. It's usually little things: there's no parking on that street. The weather will be unseasonably cold tomorrow, so dress appropriately. There's a paper due Thursday, so food restocking will be Friday instead of Wednesday, is that alright? No one is hungry? Are you sure you don't want dry cleaning?

With this insight, the man that Kaneki met at the supermarket and the man he met in Anteiku start to match up. He's strange and lacks a concept of personal space, but he's polite and goal-orientated. When he does stay overnight, which happens if he participates in training, Kaneki has gotten used to waking up in the morning to Tsukiyama making coffee and cooking. He likes schedules. 

"You said you don't really want to go into your family business," Kaneki says as he watches Tsukiyama labeling that week's food restock, "but you'd be good at it."

Tsukiyama looks up at him. He frowns, which is an unusual expression for him. He's the type of person who prefers to look pleasant. He had set of exams this past week, and Kaneki has noticed it's frazzled him. This, he can only guess, is what Tsukiyama is like when he's grumpy.

"It's boring," he says, rather flatly as he turns back to the quarter of a ribcage he's labeling and noting cooking instructions for. "I love fashion, I do, but shipment numbers and tax forms..."

He trails off, muttering darkly to himself under his breath. None of it's directed at Kaneki. It is, Kaneki can't help but think, amusing. 

"Can you imagine," Tsukiyama says, suddenly back at regular volume but to the cooking instructions, "sitting in front of a computer with spreadsheets? The rest of my life? Sure, I could get them printed and put into old-fashioned ledgers, but that's more time, and the market is ever diversifying and if you fall behind once: that's it; you're done. No point, no point. _C'est une tragédie._ It's good money, of course, but -"

He breaks off again, muttering. He's in the same mood for the rest of the day, which Kaneki wishes he could be irritated with but just finds extraordinarily amusing. He stays overnight and oversleeps the next morning. Kaneki only knows he's overslept because Ichimi is making coffee when Kaneki wakes up.

"Is Tsukiyama still asleep?"

Ichimi yawns, shrugging. Tsukiyama doesn't appear until about twenty minutes after noon. Everyone is playing cards in the living room. Tsukiyama blinks at them all. His hair is a fuzzy mess and he's wearing an extremely oversized sleepshirt patterned with little black Scottish terriers. It makes him look oddly young and small. He stares about in confusion, phone in hand.

"Oh..." he says, very blearily, before going back into his bedroom and closing the door.

Hinami covers her mouth with both of her hands to stifle her giggling. Kaneki bites the inside of his own lip, looking studiously back at his cards. Tsukiyama reappears about thirty minutes later. He's dressed and his hair is done. He still looks like a truck hit him.

Kaneki is making a new pot of coffee.

"Coffee?"

Tsukiyama blinks at him. "Yes," he says, and it's probably the most earnest thing that Kaneki has ever heard him say.

They sit at the little kitchen counter. Tsukiyama inhales his first mug of coffee. Kaneki refills it. It makes Kaneki think of how Tsukiyama had once said he'd come back to Anteiku to drink a leisurely cup. Kaneki wonders if he would have been the one to make Tsukiyama's coffee back then. He wonders if they would have talked. If Kaneki would have been too nervous. If Tsukiyama would have been too intense. It would, Kaneki concludes, have been completely different.

Across the counter, Tsukiyama sets his mug down. He yawns, wide enough that the hand that comes up doesn't completely cover the stretch of his mouth. He breathes out in a long huff, the hand moving up to rub over his eyes. Kaneki smiles a little. It's cute.

"You can go back to sleep, you know."

Tsukiyama rubs his knuckles against the bridge of nose. His eyes are shut. He groans.

"I know."

Kaneki sips his coffee. Tsukiyama puts his face in his hands. Elbows on the counter. He looks miserable.

"Do you have a headache?"

A low groan. "No."

Kaneki gets the distinct impression that Tsukiyama is lying. He's not very good at it. Kaneki sets his coffee down. Tsukiyama doesn't lift his head. Banjou has taken everyone else out for some fresh air. The April showers have let up a bit.

"Do you want something to eat?"

Tsukiyama makes an unenthusiastic noise. Now that is definitely unusual. The one topic that Kaneki can guarantee Tsukiyama will respond positively to is food. 

"Tsukiyama-san, are you alright?"

Tsukiyama remains quiet for a long moment before sitting up. He looks up at the ceiling. His arms fall forward, making hollow thumping sounds on the countertop.

"Yes," he says to the ceiling. "Just... tired."

And not hungry apparently. Tsukiyama picks up his coffee again. He nurses the mug. He's obviously not very talkative. Kaneki watches the way he slowly slumps forward. Like he would like to fall into his coffee. Maybe, from the glumness of his expression, drown in it.

They sit for a while like that. Tsukiyama finishes his coffee and starts a third cup. Kaneki picks up a book from his room and reads it at the counter. It's a Japanese translation of _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ from the local library. It's a well-loved copy.

"Is it your first time reading that?"

Kaneki looks up. Tsukiyama is looking at the book. His eyes are half-lidded. He's got his head atop his arms, which are folded on the table. There's something oddly casual about him. Tsukiyama is anything but casual.

"Yeah," Kaneki says. "I'm only about thirty pages in."

Tsukiyama makes a soft noise. Kaneki wouldn't be surprised if he dozed off right there. It can't be a comfortable position, hunched over and scrunched up like that. Kaneki isn't about to try and make him move, though. Tsukiyama pays for everything. He can decide to sleep on the counter if he wants.

"It's a good one," he says, eyelids lowering slowly. "Very scandalous."

"I was reading about the obscenity trials," Kaneki says, watching as Tsukiyama's eyes shut completely. "So I thought I should take a look."

A low hum. Tsukiyama really is going to fall asleep. He must have run himself ragged over the past week with exams, the new information he'd come by on Tuesday to drop off, and then food supply and training the day before. Not for the first time, Kaneki wonders what Tsukiyama is gaining from helping him. Tsukiyama doesn't seem to have anything in particular against Aogiri Tree. He's here entirely out of his own free will. It's baffling.

When Banjou and everyone else gets back an hour later, rain-drenched and laughing, Kaneki is still sitting and reading at the counter. The laughter wakes Tsukiyama up, and he looks around with a bleary note of inquiry. Kaneki sets the book down, a little flushed from the content.

"Oh," Tsukiyama says, very sleepily, "is it raining again?"

"Yeah," Banjou says as he tugs off his right sneaker. "Were you sleeping still?"

Tsukiyama makes a vaguely confused noise, looking around the room. "I suppose?"

"You shouldn't sleep at the counter," Hinami says; she's already shucked her shoes and is the only person who took a raincoat and is therefore not soaked. "You should go to bed if you're tired."

Tsukiyama hums. He looks back at Kaneki. His head tilts slightly. His eyebrows raise. He smiles. Kaneki narrows his eyes. 

"Mhm, yes," Tsukiyama murmurs, sliding off the stool and waving a hand lazily. "I do suppose I should."

Kaneki stares after him, even after Tsukiyama closes his door. Around him, Hinami teases Sante about all the water that is stuck in his shoes.

Kaneki's mouth is dry.

 

Tsukiyama graduates university. Correlating, Kaneki begins to see a lot more of Tsukiyama.

It's not all work. They've hit something of a brick wall with information, and there's only so many ghouls that Kaneki can eat without attracting undue attention. They've developed a schedule for most of their activities. Tsukiyama disappears most Wednesdays and returns with a possible ghoul hunting spot for Kaneki and food for everyone else on Thursday. They all train every other day, and Jiro and Hinami go out to rent movies from the supermarket on Saturdays. It's frustrating to not have new information, but there's nothing that can be done about it that isn't utterly dangerous.

"When smoking out a rat, it's necessary to be patient," Tsukiyama says when Kaneki voices his growing frustration in mid-May. "Organisations as big as Aogiri spend most of their time covering their tracks."

He's making stock in the kitchen with the leftover bones from that week's body. Kaneki had wondered for a while if Tsukiyama knew how to cook or if it had all been an act three years ago, but he's recently come to the conclusion that Tsukiyama is the type of person who, even if it is an act, covers all his bases. Tsukiyama, now that he mostly lives with them all, cooks a great deal. It's a common sight to see him in the kitchen, puttering around with something. Stretching their food by making stock and soup or cooking small amounts of human food. 

"Where'd a rich guy like you learn how to cook?" Banjou once asked, towards the end of April when Tsukiyama first made stock.

"The Internet," Tsukiyama had said whilst running a shallow ladle over the top of the broth, "is an amazing source of ideas."

Banjou had made a thoughtful noise. "Huh. So what are you doing?"

Tsukiyama tilted the ladle into the bowl of water next to the pot before returning to pot to repeat the process. "Skimming scum. If you leave it on, the broth tastes dirty."

Banjou frowned slightly, leaning over to look into the pot. Kaneki couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He'd noticed a while back that Tsukiyama really does not have a concept of personal space. He enters other people's as he pleases, but he also lets people enter his whenever they please. Usually, though, everyone in the house gives Tsukiyama space. Not on purpose, but it's a thing. 

"What is it supposed to taste like?"

Tsukiyama looked up. His expression was puzzled. He still held the ladle in hand, halfway to the rinsing bowl.

"You've never had?"

Banjou shook his head. Tsukiyama's eyebrows drew together before he reached for the small tasting dish with his left hand. He put the shallow ladle into the rinsing bowl before picking up the ladle he's been using for mixing. Kaneki watched as he doled out a small amount of the broth into the tasting dish. He offers it to Banjou.

"It's not ready yet, but it should give you a bit of an idea."

Kaneki remembers what fresh beef stock tasted like. He imagined it was something like that, and, when he tasted it later, it did have a similar taste. Banjou, though, had nothing to compare it to. The look on his face was much like Hinami's when she masters a new set of kanji.

"This is great."

Tsukiyama smiled. That, too, was something of a surprise. It was a different smile from what Kaneki had seen before. It was bright and honest. It reached his eyes. In that moment, Tsukiyama was beautiful.

"You'll like it even more when it's done," he'd said, taking the bowl back and returning to his former task. "It's amazing, how much you can get out of just bones."

Cooking, Kaneki knows now, is the only activity that Tsukiyama seems to honestly and unrestrainedly enjoy. It also seems to reflect a lot of the good qualities that Kaneki has identified with Tsukiyama. He's extraordinarily patient, working for hours at a time on the same dish. He's attentive and enjoys explaining how and why things work as they do. There's a considerate part of him, too. He likes to make and give things to them all, and he likes to get their honest opinions on his cooking. 

The cooking also slides against something that Kaneki doesn't like about Tsukiyama. Not because it's a bad quality but because Kaneki recognises it from himself.

Tsukiyama is lonely.

Cooking is a solitary activity. It's not like with humans who have a large amount of dishes and ingredients to prepare. There isn't a large amount of food they can choose from. It doesn't help that Tsukiyama is the only person in the house who knows how to cook. He has started to teach Hinami, who watches him cook religiously, but that hasn't really changed that Tsukiyama does nearly all of it himself. He's quiet if no one talks to him, often humming to himself or reading while waiting.

Banjou has noticed this as well. 

"He's an odd guy," Banjou says, one Wednesday in late May when it's just him and Kaneki training. "I still have no idea what his motivations are. But the food _is_ really nice."

Everyone appreciates the food. Kaneki tastes a little sometimes, mostly to please Hinami when she assists in the preparation. It's delicious. He can't deny it. But knowing what it is still makes a part of Kaneki scream and his stomach threaten to rebel. Hinami accepts his praise at face value, but Kaneki is more than aware that Tsukiyama sees right through him. The sincere smile doesn't last any longer than it takes Kaneki to lie.

It makes Kaneki feel guilty. He doesn't really think he's fooling Hinami. She's smart, but she's also willing to take what she can get. Tsukiyama is smart, too, but he's not someone that needs taking care of. He wants something else out of Kaneki, and it's not the defeat of Aogiri Tree. Tsukiyama has never stated what exactly his goal is. Kaneki feels like he should have figured it out after almost five months.

"I am being patient."

Tsukiyama blinks at him. Kaneki has found him sitting on the couch that faces the television in the middle of the night. It's muted and playing a twenty-four-hour news station. He hadn't been watching. He has a fashion magazine open on his lap. There's a glass of water on the coffee table.

"You are," Tsukiyama agrees, although his expression is questioning. "Were you not able to sleep, Kaneki-san?"

Kaneki shrugs. He rounds the couch to sit in the empty space. Tsukiyama dogears pages in fashion magazines. He doesn't do it to other books or other types of magazines. It makes Kaneki think.

"Isn't it late to be doing work?"

Tsukiyama looks back at the magazine. It's one of the spreads. Two different images of the same model occupy the pages. Tsukiyama fiddles with the left page, which he's already dogeared. He doesn't respond. Kaneki realises that he's made Tsukiyama uncomfortable. It leaves him grasping for a way to change the topic.

"How old is your cousin?"

The speed at which Tsukiyama looks up is impressive. It's also incredibly defensive. It makes Kaneki draw back instinctively. Tsukiyama catches himself. Kaneki can see how he forces the muscles in his upper body to relax. It's a clear task.

"Why do you ask?"

His tone is careful. Wary. Kaneki wants to kick himself. He'd wanted to find a topic that would make Tsukiyama more comfortable. Tsukiyama loves talking about himself and his family. Apparently, though, information about his cousin is not part of that.

"Just wondering," Kaneki says, and he tries to smile, even though his heart is hammering in his throat. "You'd said Hinami was a similar age."

Tsukiyama frowns. He looks back down at the magazine. His hair is washed and unstyled. The bangs he usually sidesweeps fall into his face, curtaining most of his right eye.

"I did, didn't I?" he says, mostly to himself, before turning the page. "Kanae is fifteen."

The atmosphere is a bit heavy, but it isn't tense. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama for a long moment. He's turned to a two-page spread. With his hair in his face, it's hard to read his expression. 

"Do you see Kanae often?"

Tsukiyama turns his head. He's still frowning slightly, but it's not defensive. It's a little wary and fairly guarded. 

"When I visit my family," he says, and he looks to the television, not seeing it. "I'm sorry, Kaneki-san, but could we not talk about this?"

Kaneki nods. It's the first time that Tsukiyama has deliberately shut down a conversation between them. Kaneki looks at the television as well. There's a report on an ongoing financial crisis in Europe. Next to him, Tsukiyama fiddles with the pages of his magazine. It makes soft, floppy noises. The report changes to a stock market report.

Tsukiyama turns the page of his magazine. He dogears the right page.

Kaneki leans back into the couch. He closes his eyes.

 

The beginning of June is characterised by two minor disasters.

The first is that their mail is delivered to the wrong address for three days straight. As they were expecting a delivery of books and clothes, it's deeply inconvenient, and Ichimi spends a long time on the phone trying to figure out where their packages ended up, if they could be redelivered, and if they could have a refund.

The second is that Tsukiyama goes on vacation. A relative in Osaka is getting married. He apparently doesn't like this relative very much because his entire demeanor when explaining his upcoming absence is utterly annoyed. 

"I'll be gone from this Wednesday until next Thursday," he says; it's the first Monday of June. "There's enough food in the fridge and freezer to last you, but do call me if there's an emergency."

Kaneki cottons on by the third evening of Tsukiyama's absense that Tsukiyama might have been requesting someone call him. He figures this out not by sudden emotional insight but because he gets a phone call at half past midnight from Tsukiyama. It doesn't wake him up. That doesn't make it any less confusing.

"Kaneki-san!" and Tsukiyama sounds more cheerful than Kaneki has ever heard him. "Did you know: a koala's appendix is two meters long?"

It makes Kaneki sit up in bed. He looks around. His room is a mess. He is not dreaming.

"Tsukiy--"

"You would think," Tsukiyama says, and there's the sound of music in the background, something classical, "wouldn't you that, that evolution: it's amazing. Right? Yes -"

He breaks off, nattering on in what sounds like Italian. Ah. Kaneki gets it now. Tsukiyama is drunk. There's a sound of loud, equally drunk voices on the other line.

"No!" Tsukiyama shouts back, which makes Kaneki pull the phone away from his ear. "I'm on the phone! Yes, business!"

More loud shouting. Kaneki distinctly hears someone with a high falsetto proclaim that Tsukiyama is no fun anymore. Tsukiyama makes a noise that Kaneki is fairly sure is extremely impolite. Now that Kaneki isn't so confused, he finds himself smiling. This is amusing.

"Sorry," Tsukiyama says, still a bit too loud. "This is so, so, so _annoying_. Matsumae. And, and Kanae. They're taking my drinks away -"

Kaneki props his knee up under his chin. "Maybe you should let them, Tsukiyama-san."

Tsukiyama whines. "Not you," he says, and there's a heavy thud followed by a huff of breath. "You can't. I'm not, Drunk. Just, just - The floor. The floor is here."

There's a faint sound. Like Tsukiyama is patting something solid. Kaneki bites his lip. 

"It certainly is."

"You believe me," Tsukiyama says, and it's utterly awestruck. "I should - Kaneki-san, you don't know. I, I, I, I--I'm drunk."

The last part is completely the opposite of before. It sounds completely despondent. Not disappointed like Kaneki has seen some people get when they realise they're wasted. It's like the realisation is actually completely crushing to Tsukiyama.

"Tsu -"

"No," Tsukiyama moans, and it's muffled. "I _called_ you. I should stop, stop -"

The line cuts out. Kaneki lifts his phone away from his ear. The screen is blank. Kaneki sets it down on the bed. Lies back down. He stares at the ceiling.

Did Tsukiyama not want to call him? The question bugs Kaneki for the rest of the time that Tsukiyama is away. It's still bugging him when Tsukiyama comes back. He brings gifts for everyone, including a large box of ghoul wagashi.

"High-class stuff," Banjou comments, but it's with a wiry smile. 

Tsukiyama laughs. Kaneki smiles, too, but he can't help but notice that Tsukiyama's complexion looks rather sallow. They fill Tsukiyama in on the post debacle and the state of the refrigerator and freezer, which is running slightly low but not urgent. Because they're on the topic, Kaneki can't help but ask.

"Would you like something to eat?"

Tsukiyama grimaces, waving a hand negatively. "No, that's quite alright."

Hinami is surprised by this as are everyone else. Tsukiyama doesn't notice or does a very good job of pretending not to. He puts his messenger bag back on top of his suitcase, nodding towards his room.

"Let me go put this away and change."

He rejoins them while everyone aside from Kaneki samples the ghoul wagashi. Unusually, he's changed into something fairly plain: dark blue slacks and a white cap-sleeve shirt. He leans back into the couch between Hinami and Banjou with a long sigh.

Hinami looks back at him as Tsukiyama lays his head on the back of the couch. "How was the wedding?"

"Good, good," Tsukiyama says, settling his hands over his stomach. " _Far_ too long. A ceremony, reception, evening soirée, then dinner, then drinks, then dancing, then legal and business matters, and on and on and on..."

Banjou snorts, which makes Tsukiyama turn his head on the couch to him. "You don't sound like you had good time."

"Well," Tsukiyama says, turning his head back to face the ceiling and shutting his eyes. "that's not the point. The couple are married. I might have a second cousin this time next year. Who knows?"

"You have a large family," Kaneki says before he can stop himself.

Tsukiyama half-opens one eye to look at him. "Mhm, yes," he says before his eyes slide shut again. "We used to be bigger, but most ghoul families were... Not that long time ago, not even a decade, but it's hard to remember..."

His voice trails off. That makes everyone look at him. Tsukiyama doesn't appear to notice. In fact, it appears that Tsukiyama has fallen asleep. His chest rises and falls in deep, even breathes. It makes Hinami smiles, a soft, gentle expression. It's a very mature expression. Kaneki wonders when she started developing it. 

Sante stands up, moving across the room to grab one of the throws from the small stack by the laundry. He comes back and covers Tsukiyama in it. His head, tilted back onto the couch, is left uncovered. It's looks silly. It can't be a comfortable position, but Tsukiyama is obviously very tired. 

They let him sleep.

 

Kaneki, since Tsukiyama began assisting him, quickly became aware that there is a certain brutality to both of them. Kaneki knows he's become cruel. There's a very real part of him, the part that devours ghoul after ghoul, that's grown bloodthirsty. He hides it as best he can from Hinami. It frightens Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante. It makes Tsukiyama smile. 

That is what clued Kaneki into the type of ghoul that Tsukiyama is. He is the Gourmet, an S-rank koukaku ghoul. He's unashamed of his nature and abilities. He's brutal, and he revels in it. When Tsukiyama fully invests himself in a fight, he's beautiful.

"Tsukiyama-san, we need him in one piece."

It makes Tsukiyama laugh, a bright, very light giggle. Kaneki grins. Tsukiyama is in a playful mood today. The ghoul that Tsukiyama has pinned to the floor of the warehouse in a headlock chokes and thrashes. Tsukiyama tightens his hold on the neck. The ghoul goes very still. 

"You wouldn't like a little snack, Kaneki-san?"

Those wide, kakugan eyes do look very tasty. Kaneki licks his lips. They're very dry.

"Really," Tsukiyama says, very reasonable, "this would be a nice choice. Thirty, fit, what lovely milky skin -"

Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama does not actually find ghouls to be appetizing. He always turns down Kaneki's offers to share, much as Kaneki turns down Tsukiyama's food. But since Tsukiyama started helping Kaneki seek ghouls to consume to grow stronger, he's done an excellent job at helping to sell the meals to Kaneki. Make them feel more appetizing. More palatable.

"Well," Kaneki says, already feeling himself giving in. "A person doesn't need eyes to answer questions."

He lets Tsukiyama do the extraction. Unlike Kaneki, who has never developed a taste for the finesse needed for such a task, Tsukiyama has a delicate touch. He also doesn't have a taste for torture. He's as quick and exact as possible. Kaneki appreciates this. He knows he's become bloodthirsty, cruel, and brutal, but that doesn't mean Kaneki enjoys it.

It has its consequences.

"That was fucked up," Kaneki overhears Banjou say, late that evening.

Tsukiyama is sitting next to Banjou on the couch. It's just the two of them. It looks like Banjou was there first because there's a sitcom rerun on the television. Tsukiyama makes a questioning noise through his teeth. He must have a pen in it, which means he has work on his lap.

"Today."

Kaneki lingers behind his door. He isn't sure if he should listen to this, but it is at least partially about him. Tsukiyama shifts, probably taking the pen out of his mouth.

"Yes," Tsukiyama says, "but that's the way of it."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"No."

"At all?"

"No." Tsukiyama's sounds a bit disconcerted. "Should it?"

"Well," Banjou says, very awkwardly, "no, I guess. You are an upperclass ghoul."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything. Kaneki doesn't know how he feels about this conversation. They are sort of talking about him behind his back, which Kaneki would have a right to try and stop. At the same time, Banjou is inquiring into Tsukiyama, and Kaneki wants to hear Tsukiyama's answers. Tsukiyama is relentlessly pleasant and charming, even when Kaneki is not being remotely nice. Kaneki used to think that Tsukiyama didn't have any boundaries, but he clearly does.

He has a glaring sore spot around his family.

"Thanks for the omiyagi," Banjou says. "That wagashi was really something."

Tsukiyama makes a low sound in his throat. He usually only makes that when he himself is pleased with his cooking, which isn't often. Tsukiyama is a perfectionist.

"I'm glad."

Kaneki feels his eyebrows raise. He wishes he could see Tsukiyama's face. He sounds happy. Really, honestly happy. It's the first time.

"Yeah," Banjou says, and there's a surprised note to his voice; he's noticed the difference, too. "Did you make it?"

Tsukiyama giggles. It's utterly different from his laughter or the amused sounds he sometimes makes. It's sweet and staccato. A spring shower. 

"Yes," he says, and it's a little muffled, like he's covered his mouth. "I'm not the most skilled at it, being mostly self-taught -"

"Sheesh, don't be so hard on yourself," Banjou gripes, and Kaneki watches through the slight opening of his door as Banjou shoves Tsukiyama's shoulder lightly. "If that's self-taught, then you've got to be a genius at it."

It earns another one of those real laughs. Tsukiyama twists on the couch, throwing his left arm over the back. Kaneki can see his profile. He's grinning with his entire face. Banjou turns his head to keep eye contact. He's grinning to, teasing. They're happy. 

"I wish," Tsukiyama says, a little self-depreciating. "It's a dying art. My grandmother used to make these flat ones. They were like monaka."

Banjou shrugs. "Dunno what that is."

Tsukiyama lifts his hands, forming a circle with his thumbs and forefingers. "It's a sweet," he says, and he breaks the circle to indicate the centre of the former gesture. "It's a wafer shell with different flower designs and different fillings to match the flowers."

Banjou is watching Tsukiyama's hands, expression of intense concentration. "So it's like a bun?"

"Well," Tsukiyama wiggles his hands back and forth, "no. It's not doughy. It's wafers and a bean paste. So it has a soft texture with a light crunch due to the wafers. It's sweet. The wafer sticks to the roof of your mouth. At least that's what Chie told me monaka tastes like."

"Chie who provides us information?"

Tsukiyama nods. He's staring at his hands. Studying them. Banjou watches him. There's a strange feeling to the atmosphere. Kaneki catches himself holding his breath as Tsukiyama begins speaking again.

"When I was really little," he says, almost too low to hear, "there was a shop not far from here that sold Grandmother's wagashi. I think I used to like going there. The CCG shut it down when I was four. The couple who owned it were human. They were very loyal."

It's the death penalty for humans that harbor or collaborate with ghouls. Banjou breathes out. Tsukiyama does as well. He shifts, sitting back into the couch. Banjou does the same. Kaneki watches the back of their heads for a long moment before stepping very carefully back into his room towards his bed.

He lies awake for a very long time.

 

Kaneki wakes up to the smell of blood and a sharp scream.

He bursts out of his bedroom door around the same time as Tsukiyama, Hinami, and Ichimi do. They're all in their sleepclothes. Hinami is the most awake.

"Who's bleeding?"

Tsukiyama inhales, his head turning to the front door. "Outside."

There's a body on the sidewalk. There's a woman kneeling over it. She looks up, her face covered in tears and mucus. Her hands are compressing a gaping wound that has intestines spilling out. Kaneki is suddenly glad that Tsukiyama is standing mostly in front of him. He knows that his kakugan is showing and he doesn't have his eyepatch. Tsukiyama's sleepshirt is a pastel blue. It's decorated with lilacs.

"Help!" the woman chokes. "Call an ambulance!"

Kaneki backs into the house. Ichimi and Hinami stare at him as he runs into his room, grabs his eyepatch and cellphone, and runs back out. Tsukiyama is kneeling next to the body. He looks up at Kaneki. He has complete control over his kakugan. He looks concerned and a little strained. Perfectly controlled for the situation.

"Kaneki-san," he says, holding out his hand.

It's best that Tsukiyama makes the call. He's the calmest out of all of them. He knows what to say, what information to give. Kaneki tries to comfort the woman, but he's nervous and distracted by the smell of dead, fresh human. He can feel the scratching at his mental walls, and he doesn't dare look at the images trying to edge their way into his peripheral vision.

"Well," Tsukiyama says, and it's the first time he's faltered on the situation; his eyes sweep over the body, "we're... trying to hold his intestines in."

Tsukiyama absolutely stinks of hunger, but he's not letting it show. Kaneki suddenly and intensely admires Tsukiyama. He looks completely ridiculous, standing there with his hair falling all over his face, barefoot in his gigantic sleepshirt, and pretending to be disconcerted by the sight of blood and intestines. Kaneki keep having to swallow because he can't stop salivating.

"No, I just heard a scream," Tsukiyama says before trying to make eye contact with the woman. "Excuse me -"

The woman wails. She's hysterical. Kaneki instinctively leans back, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Tsukiyama also takes a step back. He fumbles the phone. If that's part of the act, it's very convincing. He brings the phone back to his ear as the woman dissolves into loud, broken sobs. 

"Could -" and he clears his throat, catching Kaneki's eye. "Could you hurry up?"

It's not an act. There's something about the way the woman reacted that's genuinely alarmed Tsukiyama. He doesn't smell half as hungry as he did before. 

The paramedics arrive first. Tsukiyama and Kaneki get out of the way. Kaneki looks up at Tsukiyama. He's been playing with his bangs since hanging up, nervous little tugs and fiddling with the ends of the hair. It makes him look very young, especially wearing the sleepshirt and barefoot as he is. 

"Are you alright?"

Tsukiyama nods. The paramedics are gathered around the woman and the body. The woman is still sobbing, but it's hoarser and quieter. She's blown her vocal cords. Next to Kaneki, Tsukiyama breathes in and out in a long sigh.

"You should go back to bed, Kaneki-san. I will handle this."

Kaneki smiles. It's a little shaky. He shakes his head.

"I don't want to make you do this alone," he says.

Tsukiyama looks at him for a long moment. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown either. If Kaneki had to describe how Tsukiyama looked just then, it would have been how Tsukiyama had looked when he didn't understand cardamom back when Kaneki was sixteen and working at a supermarket. When everything was so very different.

"Thank you, Kaneki-san."

Kaneki nods. Turns his attention back to the activity. The woman sobs brokenly.

Kaneki realises he never did write the best before date on that packet of strawberries.


	2. Nishime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a cheerful floral print.

The rest of the night and the entire morning is a mess.

Despite Kaneki not physically leaving Tsukiyama alone, it's Tsukiyama who deals with the questions from the paramedics and the police when they arrive. Kaneki effectively parrots the information Tsukiyama gives. They were all asleep. A scream woke them up. They don't know anything about what happened. Kaneki has to collaborate the fake name that Tsukiyama gives for him. It's one of the back up identities. Everyone has three that have some sort of surface paper trail. Tsukiyama spends a lot of time filing these, and Kaneki suspects they take a while to create. It's annoying to have to use one up here.

"We'll call you if we need more information," the detective says as the sun starts to rise over the scene.

"They won't," Tsukiyama says once they're back inside of the house and standing as far from the front door as possible. "The lady did it."

Kaneki had suspected this, but he can't help but raise his eyebrows as Tsukiyama goes over to the refrigerator. "You're sure?"

Tsukiyama takes a couple of glasses off the rack and pours water into them. Hinami and Ichimi are sitting on the couch, listening. Kaneki trusts that Ichimi called Banjou to tell him, Jiro, and Sante to not come back yet. They'd gone out to investigate a lead in the 5th Ward and should have come back by now. If there was something wrong, Kaneki is sure that Ichimi would have said something as soon as Tsukiyama and Kaneki came back in.

"The knife is in her jacket," Tsukiyama says, offering one of the glasses to Kaneki. "It's soaked through the fabric. It'll become apparent as soon as they try and check her for injuries."

"You could smell that?"

Tsukiyama nods. He gulps the water. Kaneki finds himself doing the same. He hadn't realised how thirsty he was. Kaneki moves over to the couches to sit next to Hinami and Ichimi. Hinami looks at him, her face pale and strained.

"What's wrong?"

She looks down. At her lap. It's her habit when she doesn't yet have her words together to explain. Kaneki leans his elbows on his knees, keeping the cup between his hands. Behind them, Tsukiyama is making the familiar noises of preparing coffee.

Hinami laces her fingers together. Rubs the back of her right thumb with her left.

"They were arguing," she says, voice very small. "About custody of their children."

Oh. Kaneki must have slept through that. From the look on Ichimi's face and the sudden quiet of Tsukiyama in the kitchen, they must have, too. Hinami's hearing is truly exceptional. It's difficult for Kaneki to gauge the difference between his half-ghoul senses and an average ghoul's. In these moments, with Hinami, Kaneki feels more than a little at a loss.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Hinami shakes her head. She rubs her thumb. Her head bows a bit lower.

"I didn't say anything because I thought they were just arguing. Most of the time, when I hear something like that, nothing really bad happens."

Kaneki swallows. He reaches out carefully. Hinami doesn't pull back. Kaneki takes her hands, holding them lightly between his. She hunches forward a little. Bites her lip.

They stay like that for a long time. Hinami goes back to bed after six in the morning. So does Ichimi after phoning Banjou to let him and the rest know it's safe to come back. Kaneki goes down to the training room and runs through moves. It get his blood moving, helps to sate some of the barely controlled anger and anxiety that makes him feel like he's loosing himself. Tsukiyama comes down into the training room, but he sits against the far wall, scrunched up and reading.

"Do you want to spar?" Kaneki had asked as they'd gone down the stairwell together.

The offer had made Tsukiyama smile a little, but it was weak and unhappy. "I'm not certain of my control."

Kaneki can tell admitting that cost Tsukiyama something. For someone like Tsukiyama who prides himself on his self-control and personal abilities, saying that would be like Kaneki admitting he sometimes sees and hears things that aren't there. It makes Kaneki envious of Tsukiyama. He's able to admit something like that. It's courage that Kaneki doesn't have.

Kaneki sits down hard on the training room floor, panting. He rubs his hands over his face. His hair. He sits there for a long time, heart and lungs calming. He spends that time watching Tsukiyama. It takes Kaneki a long time to realise that Tsukiyama isn't reading. He's turning the pages at regular intervals, but his eyes don't move. His expression is calm and his body language relaxed, but he isn't looking at anything. He's faraway.

It isn't the first time that Kaneki has seen Tsukiyama like this. They sit together in the dead of night at the kitchen counter with coffee or on the couch in front of the television. It happens fairly regularly, Kaneki has started to notice. At first he thought it was Tsukiyama joining him because he'd been woken up by Kaneki moving around. Lately, he's started to suspect that Tsukiyama doesn't sleep well either. They sit, Kaneki attempting to ignore all the things that want to jump him in his own mind, Tsukiyama with a magazine or a book and a vacant look to his eyes.

"Tsukiyama-san."

He blinks. Looks up from his book. He's not changed out of his sleepshirt or done his hair. He's pale and wan. He blinks again, slow and tired.

"Yes?"

Kaneki flexes his fingers. He wonders if he should ask this question. It's the thpe of question that can easily offend. He's never seen Tsukiyama mad. Somehow, though, Kaneki doesn't think asking will make Tsukiyama angry.

"How do you measure your self-control?"

Tsukiyama is quiet. He looks back at his book. He's towards the end. Kaneki suspects he doesn't remember how he got there.

"My blood," he says after a very long time. "There's this feeling. A rushing. Like -"

He lifts his right hand, reaching back to indicate where his kagune originates. The motion makes his sleepshirt ruck up around his folded knees, exposing pale thighs. Kaneki's stomach, to his horror, twists. Tsukiyama, completely oblivious, makes a circular motion. It makes his sleepshirt ride up higher. Kaneki forces himself to look at Tsukiyama's face.

"I call feel it," Tsukiyama says, and he's not looking at Kaneki; he's looking at the book. "My kagune binds to my ribs and spine. It changes how I breathe. So it's important that I control myself."

Tsukiyama turns a page in his book. Kaneki flexes and fists his hands. Flexes. Fists. His knuckles feel tight. A ghost whispers in his ear.

"Why?"

A pause. Tsukiyama looks up. He inhales. Watches Kaneki. Kaneki knows he can't hope to hide whatever it is that queued Tsukiyama in that something isn't right. Something is wrong with Kaneki. Kaneki is wrong. Kaneki is sorry. And he isn't. Kaneki -

"I am very strong," Tsukiyama says, and his voice is level, unreadable, "but my kagune is very large. It weights more than I do. So, even if I haven't drawn it fully, I have to be careful. If I'm not, the weight can break my ribs."

The way he says the last part gives Kaneki the distinct impression that Tsukiyama learned that through experience. Tsukiyama is very sure of himself when fighting, and Kaneki makes no secret of admiring and examining Tsukiyama's technique. There are flourishing movements to Tsukiyama's fighting style but only if he's trying to intimidate or not taking an opponent seriously. When Tsukiyama is serious, he's decisive with very little margin of error. It makes him a joy to spar against.

Sometimes Kaneki wants to skewer him and push him down -

Kaneki reaches up and rubs his left eye. "I would have never guessed," he says, stomach rolling. "Is it like that for all koukaku users?"

Tsukiyama shakes his head. He closes his book and sets it next to him. He leans forward, shifting his legs until they splay straight. He rests his elbows between them on the cloth of his sleepshirt. He props his chin up on his hands. It's a position that requires a fair amount of flexibility. He looks like a dancer with those long, long, long legs -

"Mine is unusually heavy," he says.

He's watching Kaneki out the side of his eye, through his hair. Kaneki swallows. He can't see all of Tsukiyama's expression, but he can tell it's wary. Kaneki doesn't want to make Tsukiyama uncomfortable. Kaneki knows he spends a lot of time making Tsukiyama uncomfortable. It makes him wonder why Tsukiyama does all that he does. Why Tsukiyama stays.

"Why?"

Kaneki takes a deep breath. The air is warm and stale. He curls his fingers. His knuckle cracks.

"There's a lot of things," he says, through his teeth, "I don't understand."

 

The fact of the matter is that Kaneki is attracted to Tsukiyama.

This is not a new thing. He'd thought, even back when he was sixteen, that Tsukiyama was beautiful. He's thought about Tsukiyama from a physical perspective many times over the past few months. Kaneki cannot doubt that Tsukiyama knows at least half of what Kaneki thinks. Tsukiyama himself is fully aware that he's attractive. He makes full use of it. He flirts for information when they're out investigating, and he isn't above conducting himself provocatively if it gives him an advantage.

It's slowly driving Kaneki insane. The way that Tsukiyama twists words, making other ghouls laugh or flush or gaze at him covetously. Or how Tsukiyama leans forward and pretends to be unaware how it hints at a bit more skin or accentuates his form. Or the light brushes from too close contact, leaving behind a scent and a dream. Kaneki is left lying awake at night, these scenes replaying on endless repeat.

The most infuriating thing is that it works. Kaneki can't stop Tsukiyama because Tsukiyama knows what he's doing. Knows that if he smiles a little wider or tilts his head slightly to showcase his neck, people stop guarding their words so closely. Tsukiyama knows how to make them hungry. His little displays are automatic tickets to the bellies of beasts.

Even though it works, it has a cost. Not just for Kaneki, who is starting to wonder if he prefers the hallucinations and night terrors. Banjou hates it.

"I hate it," Banjou says, "when he uses himself like that."

Kaneki pauses, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Everyone else is out at the mall. Hinami needs new clothes, Tsukiyama is their source of money, and Banjou had sent off the rest because he worries they're too dependent on him. Kaneki had suspected that Banjou might want to talk to him about their latest information gathering adventure. It had been in the 16th Ward at a ghoul nightclub. It had not been an experience Kaneki left feeling very good about.

"You're talking about Tsukiyama-san, right?"

Banjou just frowns. Kaneki finishes bringing his coffee to his mouth. He sips it, very cautiously.

"He stops just short of turning tricks," Banjou says, and Kaneki is very glad he was cautious.

Kaneki sets his cup down on the counter. He grimaces.

"I don't think Tsukiyama-san was trying to -"

Banjou shakes his head. His expression is strained. The corners of his eyes pinched. He's really upset about this. Kaneki's stomach turns over.

"The thing he does with his neck," Banjou says, and he moves his forefinger in an upwards, sweeping motion. "It's a clear invitation to a ghoul."

Kaneki is glad he put his cup down. He looks away from Banjou. He can feel his face burning. That explains a few things, including why he keeps having dreams that feature Tsukiyama's neck. He'd thought that it was Rize's influence, that somehow the neck was supposed to be delicious. It is delicious apparently, but Kaneki is pretty sure Rize has nothing to do with this for once.

Banjou watches him, more than a little awkwardly. "He's driving you crazy, too, huh?"

This would be a good time for the floor to open up and swallow Kaneki whole. Banjou lifts his hands. Rests his forehead on them.

"It's disturbing that he knows how to act like that. I don't know what goes on in his head."

Neither does Kaneki. Despite how much Tsukiyama talks about himself, it's fairly rare that he actually says anything substantial. His room in the house doesn't help much. He keeps more clothes than the rest of them, and his book collection rivals Kaneki's, but the room itself is fairly impersonal. He hasn't gone out of his way to decorate beyond the flowers he regularly picks up.

It reflects something that has been nagging Kaneki since Tsukiyama called drunk from the wedding. Tsukiyama has a family. He has a life to go back to. Banjou makes jabs at Tsukiyama about being an upperclass ghoul. Tsukiyama will occasionally have to backtrack to explain things to them all due to that. There's a whole world that Tsukiyama belongs to that they aren't part of and that Tsukiyama does not invite them into. Kaneki doesn't think Tsukiyama deliberately keeps them hidden. It seems, rather, that Tsukiyama wants to keep the world he comes from away from them.

Kaneki takes a sip of his coffee. Swallows. He senses he might regret this question, but there might not be another time to ask it.

"Why is it disturbing Tsukiyama-san knows how to..." and Kaneki falters, feeling his face attempt to light itself on fire. "For him to act like that?"

Banjou lifts his head. He studies Kaneki for a long moment. It makes him seem much older somehow. It reminds Kaneki that Banjou is actually the oldest in the house.

"He had to learn it from somewhere."

 

Kaneki has become a harsh person.

He hates it, but it's true. He can't be the soft, gentle person he used to be. He's got Rize inside of him, but she can't be blamed for everything. In a lot of ways, she's probably the person the least at fault. Of all the terrible things that have happened since Kaneki became the abomination he is now, Rize wanting to eat him has become straightforward. Yamori, the Doves, even Nishiki: Kaneki can't just forget these things. They live inside of him now.

Kaneki is harsh. He wants to destroy Aogiri Tree. He wants to kill the people involved. He wants to take revenge for many people but mainly himself. He's dragging Banjou, Ichimi, Jire, and Sante with him. He selfishly allowed Hinami to come. He couldn't let Touka be involved. Kaneki is responsible for all the horrible things he's done.

Perhaps this is why Kaneki has found himself so focused on Tsukiyama. Unlike everyone else, even Kaneki himself, Tsukiyama can opt out of the situation at any time. What's more is that Tsukiyama, if he wants, could control the situation. He could limit their money or force them to find new lodging or stop feeding everyone. He could lord the power he has over them.

But he doesn't. Tsukiyama provides exactly what he promises and doesn't ask for anything back. He trusts them enough to sleep in the living room and appear in his nightclothes with his hair undone. He laughs with Banjou and cooks with Hinami. He spars and talks with Kaneki, even when Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama can smell all the impure things rolling off him. He treats them all like they matter.

"Look, Kaneki-niisan!" Hinami says, and she spins, summer skirt flying out around her. "It's so swirly!"

Kaneki smiles. "You look really pretty," he says, and he means it. "Did you get new hair clips, too?"

Hinami laughs and nods. She moves to join Kaneki on the couch. When she sits, the skirt flares out around her. It's a cheerful floral print.

"What flowers are these?"

"Lily of the valley," Hinami says, and she spreads the fabric flat across her lap. "The lady who was helping us said that it's a bit mature, but I like it, and Tsukiyama-san said that it's a good flower."

Kaneki turns his head to the kitchen. Tsukiyama has the fan on over the stove and is draining azuki beans. He doesn't appear to be paying attention. Since the conversation about wagashi that he and Banjou had and Kaneki had eavesdropped on, Tsukiyama has begun a truly obsessive quest to figure out how to make monaka. The logic, Kaneki guesses, is that if Tsukiyama can figure out how to make the perfect monaka, he'll be able to reverse engineer his grandmother's ghoul version.

Kaneki isn't sure, but, considering this is the fourth attempt that Tsukiyama has made, it's not going too well.

"Tsukiyama-san."

A questioning noise. Tsukiyama turns around, cooking chopsticks in hand. The apron is tied, the strings looping around with enough length to be tied in front. It's a floppy bow. The image overlaps against something that Kaneki hasn't thought of in years. His mother. Standing in the kitchen. It was New Years, and she was making nishime.

Kaneki forces himself to look at Tsukiyama's face.

Tsukiyama makes another questioning noise, eyebrows drawing together. Apparently, Kaneki has just been staring. He forces himself to blink rapidly. The image, alarmingly, stays. Overlapped. His mother -

"Kaneki-san?" Tsukiyama asks, very careful. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. There is something glaringly wrong. Kaneki stands up. He heads towards the basement. Tsukiyama moves to follow him. Kaneki shakes his head. Picks up speed. He runs down the stairs and slams the door. Locks it. Curls up on the floor and pulls his hair. Hits his head against the floor.

Tsukiyama is not his mother. His mother was shorter. His mother was human. His mother used to cook him hamburger steak. His mother worked hard and kept an intensive schedule and didn't sleep and worked herself to death -

A part of Kaneki, the part that isn't currently having a breakdown, is aware that this is completely illogical. Tsukiyama is not his mother. Tsukiyama is not human. Tsukiyama has a family and a life and can leave at any time. He is not going to die, but he could leave, and Kaneki thinks he might be falling in love with him, and _that_ is why he's freaking out and Rize is laughing in his ear while a centipede tries to burrow its way into his _brain_

(Mother mother I'm so fucked up)

He stays down there for a long time. He knows this is unfair. This is why Hinami is growing up too fast. Why everyone watches him apprehensively. Why sometimes he considers just giving up. It's hard. It's so hard.

It's dark out by the time that Kaneki finally is able to get out of the basement. The house is quiet. There's a light on under Banjou's door, and, if Kaneki listens very closely, he can hear Banjou listening to the police radio. He does that, even though they don't really have reason to unless they're going out on business. They all have their worries.

Kaneki has just opened the kitchen cabinet to make some instant coffee when Hinami's door opens. She peeks out of it at him. She's dressed in her nightgown. Her expression is very worried.

"You have blood on your face."

Kaneki sighs. He sets the coffee canister back in the cabinet and moves over to the sink. He can hear her approaching as he rinses his face. He grabs the hand towel, rubbing it over his face. When he turns and looks up, Hinami is seated on the other end of the counter, hands clasped in front of her on the table.

"Is it gone?"

She nods. Looks down at her hands.

"Tsukiyama-san went out," she says. "He said he'd be back tomorrow for the meeting you have planned."

It's not a meeting. Kaneki is scheduled to eat. From the way Hinami say it, she knows the truth. Kaneki knows he shouldn't lie to her. Kaneki lies to himself.

"Did he finish the monaka?"

She nods. Points to the refrigerator.

"He's not happy with how it turned out," she says as Kaneki turns to open the door. "He doesn't think it looks right."

Tsukiyama's happiness is only readable through his food. That Hinami has been able to figure that much out means that she's getting to know him very well. It makes sense. They spend a lot of time together. They cook together regularly now and Tsukiyama has been teaching Hinami algebra. It's a bit rude, but listening to their math lessons is the most surefire way for Kaneki to fall asleep.

Kaneki pulls the plate out. He examines the monaka through the plastic wrap. Feels himself frown.

"They look perfect."

The monaka wafers are perfectly uniform and flat. Kaneki knows the bean paste already has the proper texture; it was the first thing that Tsukiyama got right. He can't tell what Tsukiyama thinks is wrong.

"That's what I thought," Hinami says; she sounds sad. "I convinced him not to throw them out."

Kaneki puts the plate back in the fridge. He can't comment on them besides the visual impression, which looks exactly like non-seasonal monaka is supposed to. Kaneki was never one for sweets, and it's not something that he misses as he is now. He gets the impression, though, that if Hinami and Tsukiyama were humans, they would have liked sweet things. Hinami is more practical than Tsukiyama, though. She would probably like almost anything.

"Kaneki-niisan," Hinami says, jarring him out of his thoughts, "what happened earlier?"

Kaneki bites his lip. He has to be careful not to bite too hard. Hinami can smell that sort of thing, just as she can hear everything that goes on in and around the house. Sometimes, Kaneki wonders how overwhelming it must be for her.

"Did Tsukiyama-san scare you?"

No. Kaneki shakes his head. He's been too quiet again. He looks down at the kitchen floor. Off-white tile.

"The opposite."

Tsukiyama looked like a good memory. A memory that Kaneki had forgotten. It had to have been before his father died. His mother looked healthy and well-rested, and, now that Kaneki isn't freaking out, he thinks she must have looked happy, too. Or, if not happy, at least content. There is nothing threatening in that memory, nothing that Kaneki can associate with what his life has been. It was just his mother, distracted for a moment in the middle of cooking New Years dinner.

"I," Kaneki says, a sinking feeling in his chest, "need to tell him thank you."

"You can call him," Hinami says, very reasonable. "He always has his phone."

That's true. Tsukiyama is one of those types of people. This is something that Kaneki would rather talk to Tsukiyama in person about, but he senses from Hinami's tone that she isn't suggesting. It's something that she would prefer Kaneki do.

Kaneki breathes out. "Let me make coffee first."

 

The phone rings. Once. Twice.

"Kaneki-san?" Tsukiyama sounds odd, like he has something in his mouth. "It's very late."

There's music in the background. Some sort of classical waltz. There's a few faint voices, holding distorted conversations. Kaneki wonders where he is.

"I wanted to explain," Kaneki starts, playing with the tag on his summer blanket. "What happened earlier."

"Oh," Tsukiyama says.

There's a shifting. The sound of something clinking into a glass.

"You don't have to," he says, and his diction is clear again; he must have been sucking on something. "I know that -"

"No," Kaneki says, even though he would really, really like to take the out. "I shouldn't treat you like that. I can't really explain what happened either. I just -" and he falters. "I didn't -"

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and his voice is very soft, very gentle. "You really don't have to explain."

Kaneki swallows. Presses his forehead against his knees. The music in the background is very pleasant. Kaneki feels very small, sitting in his bed.

"I'm not one of the fragile people you need to protect," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds like cotton, warm and comforting. "You have enough to worry about."

Kaneki hugs himself. Presses the phone against his ear. He wants to say a lot of things. He wants to ask what Tsukiyama is getting out of all of this. He wants to say he appreciates all that Tsukiyama does for him. He wants to tell Tsukiyama that he enjoys, so very deeply, having Tsukiyama by his side.

Instead, Kaneki swallows. Breathes out.

"Where are you?"

A pause. Someone is laughing in the background among the low, inaudible conversations.

"I'm at a bar."

The way Tsukiyama says that gives Kaneki the impression that Tsukiyama isn't supposed to be there. It's probably a ghoul bar, since Tsukiyama apparently has a drink based on the sounds earlier. The only such bar that Kaneki knows is Helter Skelter, but somehow Kaneki doesn't think that it would be half as quiet nor have classical music as the ambiance.

"It doesn't sound like a bar."

Kaneki means it as a joke, but it probably comes out accusatory. He wants to slap himself. On the other side of the line, Tsukiyama is quiet for a long moment before responding.

"It's," he says, and his diction is odd again; he's put something in his mouth, "a nice bar."

Alright. Kaneki will just have to accept that.

"What -" and suddenly Kaneki wonders if he should even go down this line of questioning, but he's started it and must commit, "are you eating?"

Tsukiyama makes a soft noise. "Frozen plasma."

"Why frozen?"

There's the clinking noise again. The scrap of a glass against wood.

"I guess," Tsukiyama says, pleasant and languid, "it's sort of like frozen jelly shots."

Kaneki is starting to understand why Tsukiyama sounds so calm. He wonders if they would have had such a mellow conversation if Tsukiyama was doing something else.

"How many have you had?"

A pause. "Not a lot..."

Kaneki shakes his head against his knees. Tsukiyama is a very bad liar.

"Is that what you were drinking at the wedding?"

"No," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds cross suddenly. "That was bad wine. I don't know what my uncle was thinking. You would think, with a man who prides himself on being an entertainer, he would know how to _entertain_ , but -"

Tsukiyama makes a rude noise. There's a shifting. Kaneki guesses he's put the frozen plasma back into his mouth. Tsukiyama continues talking, somewhat distorted.

"Such awful taste. There's a difference," and there's a brief pause; Kaneki guesses that Tsukiyama must have swallowed the last of the plasma because he continues more clearly, "between blood wine and spoiled blood. Of course, with how unpleasant that whole ordeal was and him being family, I wasn't going to turn it down. I'm not rude. But even Kanae couldn't handle the stuff. Terrible."

Kaneki feels himself smile. It hurts his face a little. It feels unused but not out of place. He realises, somewhere deep inside of himself, that Tsukiyama makes him smile a lot these days.

"Isn't Kanae a bit young for drinking?"

There's a light huff on the other end of the line. "Kanae has the best tolerance and the least emotional control. Give the poor thing a buffer. My tolerance of blood wine is abominable, so Kanae or Matsumae usually take my glasses away, but, well, weddings..." 

Tsukiyama sighs. Kaneki hears the music in the background change. It's something that he feels like he should recognise.

"They happen so rarely these days," Tsukiyama says, lower than before, "and they're such awfully big affairs. I like social gatherings well enough, but it's not fun for Kanae, and Matsumae has to manage both of us. Father is useless on that front. Sometimes I wonder if it was a good idea, Uncle getting married, but with things the way they are, we do need to expand the family. Either that or change who we are, and I don't think we can. Nobody listens to me on this. I'm not a child, but we used to live longer, and Father still acts like that'll be the case. Don't worry, he tells me, but it's not like that. Not outside..."

Tsukiyama is slowly starting to make less and less sense. Or, perhaps, Kaneki isn't able to follow him as he rambles on about his family. He's sounding progressively more and more morose, which worries Kaneki. Kaneki chews his bottom lip.

"Tsukiyama-san, do you need someone to come pick you up?"

There's a short silence. The music and voices continue on the background, unfettered.

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and it is very soft, almost a whisper, "can I ask you something?"

Kaneki swallows. Presses the phone close to his ear.

"Yeah, sure."

"What," and Tsukiyama's voice is still soft, but his diction is very clear, "do you plan to do if you succeed?"

Kaneki sucks in a breath. He hugs his legs closer again, head pressed between them. It's very quiet in his head. On the other end of the line, he can hear glass on wood. Tsukiyama is playing with his glass.

"I -" and Kaneki chokes on it; he hates himself. "I -"

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, softly, gently, "it's fine. You don't have to know. Most people don't."

Suddenly, Kaneki understands. 

Tsukiyama doesn't know what he's doing either.

 

There are three truths:

The first is that Kaneki is in love with Tsukiyama. He's known this for a while, based off of the content of his dreams and the aching desire that sometimes comes with them. He's come to know it more recently in smaller things. He likes waking up in the morning to Tsukiyama puttering around in the kitchen. He looks forward to sitting on the couch with Tsukiyama while he reads or works. He enjoys sparring and working alongside Tsukiyama, anticipating his comments and looking for his occasional guidance. 

The second is that Tsukiyama is not Kaneki's responsibility. Tsukiyama has his own to protect, a family and a life that existed before Kaneki. Kaneki has to respect that. The world that Tsukiyama comes from is his own, and Kaneki can't pry where he isn't wanted. It's difficult to let people in, and Tsukiyama has been very generous. Kaneki cannot be greedy, not if he wants to keep Tsukiyama by his side.

The third is, perhaps, the most important: Kaneki can depend on Tsukiyama. Kaneki knows that the path he's chosen is treacherous and will likely end in tragedy. Kaneki has become a bloodthirsty, cruel, and harsh person. He may even be a bad person. In his own way, Tsukiyama is a bad person, too, but he's different enough that Kaneki knows he can see what Kaneki can't. Tsukiyama isn't afraid of pointing out flaws or beating Kaneki into the ground if he has to. He doesn't cut corners. So, when Kaneki eventually goes over the edge, he can depend on Tsukiyama to let him know. 

And if Tsukiyama tries to stop him, Kaneki isn't sure who will be the victor. It is a very sad, very comforting thought.


	3. The Last Homely House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because we are the protagonists of our own stories doesn't mean we're best sellers.

The opening paragraph to _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ goes:

> Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.

Kaneki, the first time he read it, very nearly put the book back.

 

Summer rolls in at full force in late June. The house thankfully has very good air conditioning. They spend a lot of time inside due to that. It means everyone sees a lot more of each other. This is both a good and a bad thing.

"So I square the denominator first?"

"Yes."

A brief pause.

"Tsukiyama-san."

"Mhm?"

"When am I ever going to need to use this?"

Banjou starts coughing violently on the couch in front of the television. It brings Kaneki out of the doze that he'd fallen into about thirty minutes ago. Hinami is sitting at the kitchen counter next to Tsukiyama, attempting to learn about division of algebraic expressions. She looks rather put out. Tsukiyama has the textbook's answer catalogue in front of him. The expression on his face is rather baffled.

"Well," he says, and his tone makes it clear he's never considered the question, "it's useful for a lot of things." 

Hinami squints at him. "Like what?"

Tsukiyama taps his fingers on the catalogue. He looks up at the ceiling. Kaneki watches the way he licks his lips and swallows, the way it moves his neck. Does he do this on purpose or -

"I use it," he says, looking back to Hinami with a very serious expression, "to figure out how much a body needs to weigh to feed different numbers of people. Or how many bodies are needed. Whichever is more efficient."

Despite himself, Kaneki winces. Of all the examples to use. Kaneki looks away. Back at the television. Banjou is quiet next to him. Hinami, behind them, breathes out.

"Oh," she says, very soft, before she breathes in. "Show me how you do that."

Kaneki bites his lip. He glances at Banjou, who is resolutely watching the television. Kaneki turns his attention back to the screen. It's a daytime talk show with a popular soap actor being interviewed. Kaneki feels completely lost. 

On one hand, he wants to get up and stop the lesson. Hinami doesn't need to have such graphic illustrations for why it's useful to learn algebra. On the other hand, Kaneki can't help but suspect that it is selfish of him to want to shield Hinami from the reality of the world. Hinami has seen terrible things already, and Kaneki knows, deep down, that he can't stop her from seeing more. Not if he keeps her near. Not if he wants to succeed in taking down Aogiri Tree. 

Behind him, Tsukiyama begins to speak again. There's a detached air to his voice, like he's reciting something from memory.

"The average human and ghoul here in Tokyo weigh about 58 kilograms each. The rule of thumb is that a ghoul needs to eat their weight every month. Therefore, one ghoul needs to eat 58 kilograms of human. If we do not factor into account what of a human is inedible, such as bones and indigestible tissue, one average human should feed one ghoul. What does this equation look like?"

There's the sound the Hinami writing. Kaneki looks at Banjou. Banjou watches the television, but he isn't seeing it. Kaneki bites his lip. Looks down at his hands.

"X for human equals y for ghoul?"

Tsukiyama makes an affirmative noise. "That's the basic ratio. But if you're trying to gauge real consumption, there are a lot of different factors that need to be taken to account. For example -"

Kaneki turns around. Neither Tsukiyama nor Hinami are paying any attention to the discomfort on the couch. Tsukiyama is leaning forward over the counter to write on Hinami's notebook. Hinami's head and shoulders are bent forward. They're both concentrating.

"I," Tsukiyama says, still clinical but less detached than before, "am 71 kilograms. If I wanted to simply maintain my weight and had a sedentary lifestyle, I would probably fit the original equation. I am, however, rather active with a total energy expenditure likely two to three times my basal metabolic rate. Therefore, I need to eat an estimated two and a half times my weight in a month to maintain myself. What would that equation look like if you were calculating how many average weight humans do I need to eat in a month?"

Hinami makes a thoughtful noise. Her mechanical pencil scratches over her notebook. In the seat across her, Tsukiyama makes lazy loops of his bangs around his forefinger. Quietly, Kaneki boggles. He's never thought about their food supply like that. 

"It would be 71 kilograms by 2.5 for your metabolic rate divided by 58 kilograms?"

Tsukiyama makes an affirmative noise. "That's the simple equation. With algebra, we can adjust the equation with added variables like sickness needs--say, if I caught a cold, I'd need more food--or if I lost weight and needed to regain it, that would change things, and so on."

Hinami has been writing while Tsukiyama speaks. "So you need to eat three or more humans a month?"

There's a short pause. Tsukiyama blinks, looking down at what Hinami was writing. The expression on his face is difficult to discern.

"Ah," he says, staring down at her work. " _Oui, mademoiselle_. You are correct."

It's odd. Kaneki turns away. He looks back at the television, which features a commercial for compression socks. He glances up at Banjou, who is watching the commercial with far too much concentration. He's probably thinking the same thing.

Tsukiyama is definitely not eating three or more people per month. Neither is Banjou, who probably needs at least that much if not more. Kaneki isn't sure regarding Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante. Kaneki and Hinami are eating well enough, Kaneki because he eats differently and Hinami because everyone has agreed without needing to discuss it that she has priority in feeding. 

It explains, in a very roundabout way, why Tsukiyama spends so much of his time in the kitchen. Stretching food is important, even more so now that Kaneki understands that, if Tsukiyama was just supplying them bodies, he would be transporting upwards of twelve bodies per month. Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama enjoys cooking and, at least to a certain extent, providing their food, but it does make him wonder if Tsukiyama is starting to stretch himself a bit thin.

It presents Kaneki with a conundrum. He doesn't know how to bring the state of food up with Tsukiyama. It's always been, since they began all of this, Tsukiyama's domain. He provides food like clockwork each week. He maintains the kitchen. It's clear that he takes pride in these activities. It reminds Kaneki of the increasingly distant memory of how they'd met in the supermarket. It's a good memory. Kaneki, selfishly, wants to keep it as it is.

Hinami, though, isn't about to let it go. Tsukiyama leaves as he usually does on Wednesday, taking with him clothes ostensibly for dry cleaning. His clothes, Kaneki has noticed, rarely come back, but what Tsukiyama does with his things and his money is entirely Tsukiyama's prerogative. Kaneki comes up from the basement to find Hinami standing a stool to look in the freezer. She looks to him, an odd look on her face.

"Kaneki-niisan," she says, closing the freezer, "I need to talk to you."

They go to her room. Hinami's room is the most homely in the house. She has textbooks and a drawing set on the desk. Her closet is open and full of dresses, socks, and shoes. It doesn't look like a young teenage girl's room, though. Everything is very neat. There are no posters or personal decorations on the walls. The bed is made, and there's a small backpack by the door. Kaneki knows it's packed with her valuables. Everyone in the house has a bag like that. 

Hinami sits on her bed. Kaneki crosses the room to sit at her desk. She's practicing drawing flowers. There's a botanical catalogue open on her desk. It's open to pages on tulips, which have extensive annotations in two different hands. Kaneki recognises the backwards slanted writing as Kanae's and the almost pedantically uniform as Tsukiyama's. Kaneki has never met Kanae, but he gets the impression that, out of his whole family, Tsukiyama and Kanae are the closest.

"I was thinking," Hinami says, drawing Kaneki's attention back, "that it might be nice for us all to go out sometime."

It can't hurt. "Where to?"

She looks at him, a strangely tentative expression. "Obon is in a couple of weeks," she says, very softly. "I wanted to attend. For my parents."

It can hurt. "Oh," Kaneki says, "of course."

Hinami nods. She looks away. Towards the door. She doesn't see it.

"I think it would be fun," she says, and there's a maturity to her tone that twists Kaneki's soul. "I've never attended before."

Banjou's reaction to the plans to attend Obon is one of surprise. He crosses his arms, head tilting slightly. Thoughtful.

"It can't hurt," he says, and he smiles a little, wistful. "I think every kid should have a chance to experience Obon. Ghoul or not."

Tsukiyama's reaction, when he gets back on Thursday, is a more opaque. He stares at Kaneki for a long moment before looking back at the files he's brought. It's a new identity to replace the one that Kaneki had to use up with the police. They never had followed up.

"Yes," he says, unreadable, "that does sound nice."

He sets the file on the counter before turning to the brown grocery bags full of food. He smells, Kaneki thinks as he sits at the counter and watches Tsukiyama begin sorting the refrigerator, different. Tsukiyama often does when he comes back on Thursdays with information and food. He showers or bathes somewhere, fairly soon before coming back to their house. Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama kills all of their food, or if he enlists some sort of assistance like he does for information. 

"We'll need new clothes," Tsukiyama says, stretching as he says it; the motion makes the strange, sweet scent waft over Kaneki, into his nose. "I know I haven't attended since I was about ten."

It's roses. Tsukiyama literally smells like he's been rolling around in roses. On one hand, Kaneki wouldn't put it past Tsukiyama to do something like that. On the other, there's only been a few other times that the smell has been this strong. Kaneki frowns.

"Where did you go this time?"

Tsukiyama blinks. He lets his arms fall back to his sides. His head is tilted to look at Kaneki, body held at an angle that should by all rights look awkward. Instead it makes Kaneki notice Tsukiyama's eyes. They're very red.

"I thought," he says, and there's a very cautious note to his voice, "you didn't want to know where I got food."

That was their original agreement, months ago now when Tsukiyama offered himself to Kaneki as a sword. Tsukiyama would provide for them, and Kaneki would not ask questions as to where or how the provisions came. Kaneki breathes in. It's a mistake. Everything smells like roses.

"I don't."

Tsukiyama stares at him. Kaneki stares back. This is what Banjou and Jiro walk in on as they come back from picking up a newspaper and air freshener at the corner shop. They open the front door. Tsukiyama turns his head to them. Kaneki doesn't. Kaneki watches the way Tsukiyama's eyes flicker. The curve of his neck.

"Banjou-san," Tsukiyama says, "Jiro-san -"

"Tsukiyama-san."

Tsukiyama looks back at Kaneki. Kaneki feels his hands curling into fists. Tsukiyama is still kneeling in front of the refrigerator. Banjou and Jiro are in the front door. The coiling scent of roses fills Kaneki's nose. Mouth. It's burrowing -

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and he smiles, meaningless and artificial. "We should go to the basement if you want to spar."

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama stands up. Shuts the refrigerator door. He stands with his back to it. Kaneki stares at him. Nothing changes about Tsukiyama's face, but Kaneki sees his right hand twitch. 

He watches Tsukiyama breathe. 

" _Pas de problème_..."

He turns. Deliberately showing his back. Kaneki follows him. To the basement. A part of Kaneki, very faint and very far away, is screaming.

The coiling scent guides Kaneki down.

 

It's the first time they seriously fight each other.

It's very bloody.

Tsukiyama skewers Kaneki through the belly.

But not before Kaneki bites his neck.

 

There are consequences.

"Maybe," Banjou says, barely audible, "you shouldn't live here."

He and Tsukiyama sitting at the kitchen counter. It's very late, and they must think that Kaneki has fall asleep. Maybe they underestimate his hearing. Kaneki lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Both are reasonable assumptions. Usually, he wouldn't be able to hear a quiet conversation in the kitchen with his door shut. After fighting, though, his hearing is always more acute.

Tsukiyama sniffs. He doesn't respond. Kaneki curls his fingers in his blanket. Presses the fabric over his face.

"He wants you," Banjou says, and it makes Kaneki want to burn up and die, "but he doesn't know what he's doing."

Tsukiyama says something. It's not understandable. Banjou sighs.

"I don't know. You're the one who knows what's going on. I can't figure it out half the time."

Tsukiyama laughs. Chokes. There's a short, very distressed noise that makes Kaneki want to die even more. There's a scraping of a chair. Banjou moving into the kitchen.

"Hey, look, you should eat something," Banjou says, and it's a bit louder, like he's trying to assert some normalcy. "What do you want?"

Something muffled. The refrigerator opens.

"Naw, you'll be hungry once you start eating. You like thighs, right?"

No response. Kaneki presses the flat of his palms against his eyes. Hard. He imagines gouging them out. It would hurt less than the shame trying to eat its way out of his chest. Of all the people to try to eat -

"Tsukiyama-san," Banjou says, and it's back in the whispering tone, "please."

A sniff. The scraping of a stool. Banjou and Tsukiyama move around in the kitchen. There's a crinkling of butcher paper. The sound of the wooden chopping board Tsukiyama prefers and the knife drawer. Kaneki rolls onto his side. This is his fault.

"Bad things happen," Tsukiyama says, and there's something very off about his tone; it's low and uncontrolled, almost unpleasant. "That's the way of the world. It doesn't matter."

"Do you listen to yourself?" Banjou asks, and he isn't speaking quietly anymore; it's clearly audible. "Of course it matters."

The knife makes a thudding noise against the cutting board. Is Tsukiyama angry? Kaneki doesn't know. He's never, he realises, seen Tsukiyama angry. He's seen Tsukiyama happy and relaxed. He's seen Tsukiyama content, confident, and warm. He's made Tsukiyama discomfitted and wary, and he's most recently caused Tsukiyama to be afraid. Kaneki doesn't understand what he wants. He didn't want this. 

"No," Tsukiyama says, very calm, "it doesn't."

There is a tense silence. Kaneki's mouth is dry. This is what Tsukiyama sounds like when he tells the truth. It's what he sounds like when he had to talk to the emergency dispatch and police. It's what he sounds like when he delivers information that sets them back. It's what he sounds like when he can't be the pleasant, effervescent person that he likes to be. 

"It really doesn't," he says, softer than before. "Life is cheap. Yours. Mine. Everyone's. Just because we are the protagonists of our own stories doesn't mean we're best sellers."

There's a heavy noise. Something solid being hit. The countertop. Kaneki sits up. He doesn't want to go in there. He'll only make it worse. But if Banjou and Tsukiyama are going to fight, Kaneki is the only one who can stop them.

"So, what," Banjou says; he's not trying to control his voice, "you're saying you're cheap?"

No response.

"That's bullshit," and Banjou sounds angrier than Kaneki has heard him in a long time. "By your own logic, you're worth just as much as anyone else."

Silence. Kaneki sits on the edge of his bed. He doesn't know what to do. The silence stretches. 

"Oh," Banjou says, and it's like all of his anger has bled out of him. "Hey. No -"

" _Addio dolce svegliare alla mattina -_ "

Tsukiyama sounds more than a little hysterical. He continues in this vein until even that starts to loose form. He breaks off, possibly in the middle of a word. Kaneki doesn't know. He remembers Tsukiyama nattering on in Italian, drunk over the phone. It didn't sound at all like this. It had sounded lilting and playful. 

There's movement in the kitchen. A couple of footsteps. Changing positions.

"I didn't understand a word of that," Banjou says, soft again, almost a whisper. "Look, give me the knife. Sit down. Let me finish this, yeah? Come on. Let me help."

There's more shifting. The scrape of a stool. The sound of the knife on the cutting board. A heavier hand than Tsukiyama's. Kaneki looks down at his hands. They're fisted in his blanket. It's tangled around his knees in his lap. Kaneki breathes in.

"Banjou-san," Tsukiyama says, very small, almost inaudible, "can we pretend this never happened?"

The sound of a frying pan being put onto the stove. "No," Banjou says, very audible. "You can try, but I'm no good at self-deception."

Tsukiyama laughs. It's a little broken. There's the faint scent of water droplets burning off the bottom of the pan.

Kaneki bows his head. He breathes in.

_What is 1000 minus 7?_

 

Kaneki eats on Friday with Tsukiyama's help and Banjou standing guard. It helps to clear Kaneki's head. Settle his stomach. Thinking clearer has the consequence, however, of making him feel more acutely ashamed of how he'd acted the day before. 

"I don't understand what's happening to me."

It's late Friday. Tsukiyama has been, as best Kaneki can describe it, subdued. He was fairly quiet, even when impaling Kaneki's meal in the abandoned car park. He's in his room and there's the faint sound of music coming from it. It's a compilation of choral music in German. Kaneki wants to guess it's Bach, but he isn't sure and, for the first time, can't simply go ask.

Banjou looks sideways at him. They're sitting together on the couch. The television isn't on. Banjou is working on fixing a small transistor radio. It's his sole indulgence. He doesn't let Tsukiyama buy parts for him, and he searches for the parts in his free time. He's completed three different ones since they moved into this house. They seem to sell very well.

Banjou looks back at the radio. "I kind of guessed," he says, but it isn't judgemental. "What don't you understand?"

_Why did I bite Tsukiyama's neck?_ "Do roses mean something in particular to ghouls?"

This makes Banjou look to Kaneki. His eyebrows are drawn together. Lips pursed. Whatever he had been expecting was not that. 

"No," he says, very slowly, "not usually. But if we're talking about what I think we're talking about, then, yeah, there's probably something significant about them."

Kaneki leans back into the couch. He looks at the ceiling. It's strange, now that Kaneki thinks about it. Banjou's right. Tsukiyama probably does have some sort of personal significance in roses. Kaneki can't say, though, if Tsukiyama likes them. He can't say if Tsukiyama likes very much of anything. Tsukiyama has interests, hobbies, and knowledge, but what Tsukiyama actually enjoys is difficult to discern. 

That bothers Kaneki. It bothers him in a more basic way than everything else. It's like how he noticed, back in April, that Tsukiyama is lonely. That hasn't really changed, even though they all talk to him more now, and Kaneki thinks he can safely call Banjou and Tsukiyama something like friends. It scratches at the ever present fear that Tsukiyama will leave. He has no reason for staying. Kaneki isn't exactly giving him more. In fact, if Kaneki was in Tsukiyama's position, he would have taken Banjou's advice the night before. 

Tsukiyama should run away. He should run far, far away and never look back. Tsukiyama is an intelligent, goal-orientated individual. He's not self-destructive. He doesn't like being hurt. Kaneki doesn't understand, now even more than before, why Tsukiyama is here. Why he choses to stay.

Kaneki wants him to stay. Kaneki wants to wrap his arms, his kagune, his entire being around Tsukiyama and _never let him go_

Faintly, Tsukiyama's music filters in from under his door, a full chorus. Soprano, tenor, alto, bass. Kaneki swallows. Next to him, Banjou hasn't started working on his radio again. He's watching Kaneki. Kaneki looks at the ceiling. 

"Banjou-san," he says, and it's so soft it barely makes it out of his mouth. "I could hear you and Tsukiyama-san."

Silence. Kaneki tilts his head. His cheek rests on the back of the couch. He can see the back of Banjou's head, the vertebrae in his neck. Banjou is looking down at the radio. His hands hang down between his knees. Kaneki wonders if Banjou was a human, or if he had been more opportunities like Tsukiyama or even Kaneki, if he would have fixed radios as a job. If Banjou, if he had been able to go through school, would have designed radios or worked at a radio station or even been a reporter or a DJ. Banjou is a good person. Out of all them, he's probably the best.

He doesn't say anything. Tsukiyama can hear them. Hinami can hear everything. 

There are no secrets in this house.

Kaneki turns his head back. Looks up at the ceiling. 

He shuts his eyes.

 

Kaneki wants Tsukiyama. 

This is the truth, in the very plainest and basest terms. Kaneki wants to bite Tsukiyama's neck. He wants to skewer him and hold him down and never let him go. He wants to mark him and hold him and cover him in the scent of Kaneki and Kaneki alone. He wants to know that wherever Tsukiyama goes, out or home or in this house, he'll be taking something of Kaneki with him. He'll be Kaneki's in some shape or form.

Kaneki hates this. Hates that he wants this. It's ugly and terrifying and crass and so, so overpowering. It's disrespectful to Tsukiyama in so many ways. It disregards Tsukiyama's independence. It tramples on Tsukiyama's generosity. The fact that Kaneki has these thoughts, that this is something that he is certain he himself has created: it violates Tsukiyama and Kaneki both. 

"If we're going to attend Obon, I need to take you shopping."

Hinami and Sante are in the kitchen. Tsukiyama is overseeing them as they make stock from the most recent bones. He's seated on a stool on the kitchen side of the counter. Sante tilts his head back slightly to look at Tsukiyama. 

"What's wrong with what we've already got?"

Kaneki watches the way Tsukiyama shifts. He's likely moving his right leg to hook his ankle around the back of the stool. Kaneki knows he should look away. If he stares too long, someone will notice he's not actually reading on the couch.

"Nothing," Tsukiyama says, unhurried and languid. "But I thought it would be nice, if we could go dressed up." 

Kaneki can't help but think that he doesn't sound like that, doesn't sound nearly so relaxed when talking to Kaneki these days. Kaneki wants to punch himself. Of course he wouldn't, not when -

"I'd like that," Hinami says; she turns slightly as she puts the pot's lid back on, smiling. "If it isn't too much trouble -"

"Oh, no," Tsukiyama says, and, although his back is to Kaneki, he's clearly grinning, that enthusiastic expression that coincides with food and fashion and nothing else, "I suggested it, didn't I? It would be great. There's a lot of sales on right now, since it's July, and that's always fun to go through! My father complains, 'What's the point of going through the racks,' but nothing tells you better what people are waiting for and at more reasonable prices -"

Kaneki looks back at his book. It's moments like this where Kaneki legitimately begins to fear Tsukiyama enough to actually get in control of his overwhelming want of Tsukiyama. Kaneki has never actually gone shopping with Tsukiyama. He's the only one in the house who has managed to avoid it. Hinami and Sante enjoy it, but Banjou, Ichimi, and Jiro try their very best to stay as far away from that particular activity as possible. Shopping with Tsukiyama is a day-long activity, and he's tireless, which Hinami and Sante are apparently able to match. It's impressive. It's terrifying.

Banjou's door opens. Kaneki catches the look on his face as he realises what exactly the conversation was about. There's a shifting in the kitchen. Banjou doesn't retreat fast enough.

"Banjou-san!" Tsukiyama calls, and Kaneki looks over the top of his book to see Tsukiyama motioning Banjou over; he looks so happy. "Come shopping with us!"

Banjou looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Kaneki feels sorry for him. Kaneki wants Tsukiyama to look at him like that. And he doesn't. Kaneki -

"We should all go."

It's Hinami. She has a smile on her face still, but she's looking past everyone. To couch. To Kaneki. Next to her, Sante has his back to everyone as he checks the stock pot. Tsukiyama looks to her, to Banjou, to Kaneki. Back to Hinami. He's still smiling, but it isn't happy. It's pleasant and pleasing, but there's something shut off. Hidden away.

"We should," Tsukiyama says, very lightly. "It'll be good for us."

Kaneki swallows.

His mouth is dry.


	4. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere, a clock is ticking.

**Interlude: June, Osaka**

They are in Dotonbori, leaning on the railing over the canal. Kanae holds a stuffed crab in hand. Shuu won it and a free ticket to a seafood buffet from a UFO catcher. The Glico Man illuminates their backs.

"I don't know what to do with this."

Kanae looks at the ticket. Shuu is leaning on the railing, supported by his elbows. He holds the ends of the ticket between the forefinger and thumb of both hands. They're dressed in the same suits that they wore to the wedding. Light silver affairs with pastel blue collars. It looked very pretty on Shuu, since he let his hair go blue recently. It made Kanae feel ugly. It all looks garish in the neon lighting.

"We can't use it."

Shuu doesn't respond. Kanae looks back at the crab. It has a very cheerful expression, which is more than faintly ridiculous on a crab. Crabs don't have expressions. Kanae swings it by the pinchers. Back and forth. Like an izakaya sign.

"Kanae."

Shuu is looking. Watching. He's slouching, so they're at about the same level. Kanae doesn't need to look up. Shuu's hair is swept back as is Kanae's. Someone from the Chinese branch of the Tsukiyama family had commented on how cute they were. Shuu had laughed, but they'd exchanged a look once they had a moment to. They both hate having their hair in this style. Shuu thinks it makes him look old. Kanae just thinks it's ugly.

"I've gotten involved with something that might end up being unpleasant."

This is not exactly groundbreaking. Kanae has been aware that Shuu has been up to something, at least since the start of the year. He doesn't come home as much as he used to, and Kanae knows that the Ghoul Restaurant doesn't take up so much time. Shuu is just one of the providers. Now that he's graduated university, Kanae had expected him to move home. Shuu is full of fancy, but he's well-aware of who he is. His responsibilities.

Shuu sighs. He looks away from Kanae. Back at the buffet ticket. His shoulders sit a bit a high. If he remains like that, he'll be sore.

"I've been thinking," Shuu says, very softly, "a lot about the future."

Kanae brings the crab back over the railing. Shifts it. The body is very plush and soft and holding it is very soothing. Such a display would be too childish if Kanae was with anyone else. Kanae is fifteen and long an adult in their world. 

"I'm sure you heard," Shuu continues, turning his gaze back to Kanae. "Father is thinking of retiring."

To some, it's a long time coming. Shuu's grandfather passed away almost fifteen years ago, and Mirumo is not what most consider to be a particularly strong head of house. It's why Shuu has been addressed outside of the family as Tsukiyama for as long as Kanae can remember. Shuu became an adult when he was eight. Kanae wasn't there, but he's heard the story. Everyone is looking forward to when the baton is formally passed. 

"Yes."

Shuu smiles. He lets go of the left side of the buffet ticket. Lets his arms hang down over the railing. The ticket flaps with the motion, still pinched between his right thumb and forefinger. Kanae cuddles the crab. It makes Shuu's smile soften. Kanae has noticed there are edges to his smile these days.

"So you like it?"

Kanae looks down at the crab. It's a little silly, and this is very childish. Its pop-eyed cheerfulness is really rather grotesque. But the fabric is a pleasant red, and the stitching is actually quite good. Kanae looks back up. Shuu is still smiling.

"Yes."

It makes Shuu laugh. He lifts the ticket up. Reaches over and tucks it between Kanae and the crab. It sticks out like a tag.

"It's a nice souvenir," Shuu says, straightening up and stretching with a huff. "Ah, well, we should head back."

Kanae nods. Shifts slightly so both the crab and the ticket are held more securely. Shuu drops his arms back to his side. Looks up at the Glico Man. It throws them both into a riot of colours.

"Something that big," Shuu murmurs, "would feed a lot of people."

Kanae looks up. A running man. Bigger, Kanae thinks, than even a kakuja. It would feed a lot of people.

Kanae looks sideways. To Shuu. Shuu's expression is contemplative. Distant. More than a little worried. Shuu looks worried a lot these days when he isn't watching himself. He's gotten involved with something that might turn unpleasant. Matsumae had mentioned that Shuu seemed to be more mature lately, and Mirumo has been murmuring retirement more often. It was even brought up at the business meeting Shuu and Kanae have just gotten away from. It was the first time such talk was done around human investors. In the ghoul community, who all know the story of how Tsukiyama Shuu completed his first hunt in Tokyo at the tender age of eight, it's always just been a matter of time before the baton is passed.

There are a lot of things, Kanae thinks, that might turn unpleasant.

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, "do you think you could win me another crab?"

Shuu blinks. Looks back to Kanae. His head tilts slightly, a smile working its way over his face. Reaching his eyes. He huffs a laugh, shifting to face Kanae fully. He rests his right hand on his lip. Fully at rest.

"You really like it?" he asks rhetorically and gently teasing. "We're going to get in trouble if we hide away much longer."

Kanae sniffs. "Matsumae-san did say that we didn't have to be back until the next meeting."

It makes Shuu giggle. He taps his thumb against his hip.

" _C'est vrai_ ," he says, drawing the words out slightly; his eyes are filling with light, dancing with mischief. "And the next meeting isn't until tomorrow morning. How does the expression go? Dress 'til you drop in Kyoto, eat 'til you drop in Osaka. Well -"

And he laughs, a rueful note to it. Shuu shakes his head. He reaches up with both of his hands and musses his hair out of the styling they both hate. The product makes his hair stick in whatever direction it was last pushed. Shuu approximates a playful, flyaway style before reaching out to mess up and redo Kanae's hair. It makes Kanae laugh, too, because this is very silly.

"There," Shuu says, lifting his hands away and clapping them like an exclamation. "Don't you look puckish. Let's go get another crab."

 

(Somewhere, a clock is ticking.)

 

Kaneki wakes up, not unusually, in the middle of the night.

It's quiet. The only sound that he can discern is the hum of the air conditioning and the slight noise of water in the pipes. A glance at the clock tell him in red numbers that it's just past three in the morning.

Kaneki sits up. Breathes out. About four hours of sleep isn't too bad. He knows his body well enough to not attempt to go back to sleep. He gets out of bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He's thirsty.

The kitchen and living room are dark. Kaneki makes his way around the counter that divides the area. Takes a glass from the drying rack and opens the freezer. He's not particularly hot, but he feels like ice. The freezer is half-full, chucks of meat, soup containers, and a tub of ice filling the bottom half. Kaneki fishes a couple of ice cubes out of the tub, placing them carefully in his glass. He shuts the freezer door. Turns around to sit at the counter.

Tsukiyama is sitting at the counter. Facing him. Staring at him. Kaneki nearly screams. He manages to catch himself just in time to not make a sound. It would have woken everyone up. Tsukiyama blinks. Stares at Kaneki and his open mouth. 

"Are you going to eat that?"

The ice. Kaneki looks down at the glass held so tightly now in his hand that he can feel the surface attempting to give. Kaneki forces himself to hold it a bit lighter. He looks back up. Tsukiyama is in one of his sleepshirts. This one is a fairly normal light blue. It is extraordinarily big. The neckline is askew, drooping off his right shoulder. Kaneki closes his mouth. Swallows.

"Yes," he says, and there's a croaking quality to his voice; he clear his throat. "Were you there the whole time?"

"Yes," Tsukiyama says, his eyebrows drawing together. "You didn't see me?"

Kaneki shakes his head. Tsukiyama frowns a little before shrugging. He lifts a hand over his knee. Taps his phone on. This sleepshirt is so large it hangs down to his mid-calves even when seated. Tsukiyama opens his email. His other hand rests between his legs.

"Where," Kaneki starts as he forces himself to look at Tsukiyama's face because he needs to stop looking below Tsukiyama's waist, "do you get your pajamas?"

Tsukiyama looks up at him. His head tilts slightly. His hair is unstyled and slides over his face. He doesn't brush it away. He never does when it's unstyled, Kaneki realises as he brings the glass up. Puts a cube in his mouth. It's cold and pleasant to roll around.

"Lots of places," he says, fingers shifting to lock his phone again. "This is from storage. We get a lot of samples to go through."

Kaneki has his mouth full. Tsukiyama hasn't stopped watching him. Kaneki sucks on the ice cube. Lifts the glass back to his mouth and spits the cube back in. It clinks lightly. 

"Why are they so gigantic?"

Tsukiyama blinks. He looks down very briefly before returning his gaze to Kaneki. He frowns slightly.

"This one is a bit large," he says; when Kaneki doesn't say anything, Tsukiyama's frown deepens. "It's comfortable."

It's defensive. Kaneki watches the minute movement of Tsukiyama's right shoulder. It hunches slightly forward. It wouldn't have been apparent if the neckline of the sleepshirt covered the shoulder. Kaneki has made Tsukiyama uncomfortable again. Kaneki lifts his glass back to his mouth. Puts an ice cube in. He rolls it over his tongue to pocket in his left cheek. 

"It's just," Kaneki says, teeth moving slightly against the ice, grounding him, "very different from what you wear during the day."

Tsukiyama laughs. Soft, short, and bright. He blinks, obviously surprised at his own reaction. His fingers tap against his phone without activating it. He gets back in control of himself very quickly, though. He smiles more evenly. Sits up straight and crosses his legs. The hand over his phone closes on it, holding it securely over his raised knee. 

"Well, I'm not going to wear a dress shirt to bed," he says, very wiry and a little teasing. "It is far too hot for that."

That is not helpful. Kaneki is very glad he has ice in his mouth. He takes a long moment to suck on it. Tsukiyama watches him, smiling. Amused. Almost playful. Is he doing this on purpose or -

"I've never really liked pajamas," Tsukiyama says, and he's relaxing, his shoulders lowering. "Especially in the summer. This is much more comfortable. Why do you ask? Do you want some of these?"

Kaneki chokes. Accidentally swallows the ice cube. He takes the chance to turn to put the glass down and whack himself a couple of times in the chest. Tsukiyama has to be doing this on purpose. Tsukiyama cannot be this blind. Banjou even _said_ it to him. Kaneki wants -

A soft touch against Kaneki's left shoulder. Kaneki looks up sharply. Tsukiyama has stood up. His hand is still hovering over Kaneki's shoulder. His sleepshirt gaps open, exposing shoulder, collarbone, the right side of his upper chest. It's the side that Tsukiyama's kagune originates from. That knowledge may be the only reason Kaneki is able to restrain himself from reaching out. From tearing fabric away from such lovely milky -

Tsukiyama watches him. The playfulness has gone out of his expression. He's steady, left hand braced against the counter. His phone is behind his arm. Guarded.

"Kaneki-san."

There's something in his tone that makes Kaneki focus. Tsukiyama doesn't break eye contact. He breathes in, very deeply. Kaneki watches all of him. He smells, this close, very clean. Like soap.

"You don't know," Tsukiyama says, very low, "what you're doing at all, do you?"

It's like Tsukiyama skewered him through the gut again. Kaneki stares at him. There's laughter in his ears. A roaring in his brain. Tsukiyama's eyes flicker. He doesn't smile. He isn't laughing. It's not him.

Slowly, Tsukiyama lifts his right hand. He touches Kaneki's shoulder. Just his fingertips. It's very light. Kaneki feels himself shudder. Tsukiyama stops. He lifts his hand again, keeping it in Kaneki's view. He doesn't break eye contact. He doesn't let go of the counter.

"You don't have to."

It's soft, soothing, and utterly terrifying. Kaneki stares at him. Tsukiyama stares back. It makes Kaneki feel like he's going mad. He's already mad. He lost his mind a long time ago, possibly before Yamori, maybe before Rize. Well before Tsukiyama became what he is to Kaneki now. Tsukiyama means something. He's important. Out of everyone. More than anyone. Kaneki wants him. Kaneki is -

"Sorry," and it's wretched and choking and so, so ugly. "I'm so fucked up. I'm _sorry_ -"

Tsukiyama leans forward. Presses his forefinger to Kaneki's lips. It makes Kaneki freeze in surprise. Lock up. Salivate. There is war going on inside of Kaneki's skin. Tsukiyama smiles, a knowing, thin thing. 

"I don't know what sort of person you think I am," Tsukiyama says, "but I'm not someone you should apologise to."

Kaneki stares at him. Tsukiyama smells, even so close, clean. Kaneki remembers when he was sixteen, the tall, uniquely coloured person that he thought he had forgotten. Tsukiyama had smiled then, so very different from now. Kaneki was a different person then. Maybe Tsukiyama was, too.

Slowly, Tsukiyama draws back. Lifts his finger from Kaneki's lips. He settles back on the kitchen stool, his hands resting in his lap. They tuck against each other mid-thigh. His elbows remain against his sides, framing his hips. It's not a natural position, although he wears it like one. It's something that he must have had taught to him at a very young age. It strikes Kaneki, very suddenly, that Tsukiyama's upbringing must be very different from anyone Kaneki knows.

Kaneki swallows. His mouth is dry.

"No."

Tsukiyama blinks. His head tilts slightly. It moves his hair over his face again. He smiles a little, but his hair obscures his eyes.

"No?"

This Kaneki understands. Tsukiyama is not someone who is used to being denied things. He is someone who is used to being given things. He is used to giving things away. Kaneki breathes in. Fists his hands.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki says, and it's harsh, harsher than anything Kaneki used to be. "You deserve an apology. What I did: you should have done more than gut me. I don't understand everything, but I understand that."

Tsukiyama stares at him. Through his hair. Tsukiyama has very thick hair and the oddest colouring. The blue must be his natural colour since Kaneki hasn't smelt more than hairspray or wax about Tsukiyama since he let it grow in blue over the course of the past half year. It's harder to see his eyes through blue than through purple.

Across the kitchen, really only a step away, Tsukiyama breathes in. His lips part slightly, exposing a faint line of teeth. It is the closest Kaneki has seen to Tsukiyama baring his teeth. He doesn't even smile with them, unless the smile is fake. An intimidation. Perhaps, Kaneki thinks, an imitation.

"I cannot accept your apology."

He lifts his left hand. Touches his fingers over his right shoulder. An indication. Tsukiyama smiles. Teeth. It's a grimace.

"I offered you a sword," Tsukiyama says, and it's low and uncontrolled; it is unpleasant. "That is what I am. I have never been anything else."

A sword is a weapon. A weapon is a thing. A means. Kaneki stares at Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama gazes back. There is a step between them. There is an abyss.

"I asked," Kaneki says, and he doesn't know his voice; it isn't who he is now, "if you would become our ally."

Tsukiyama's smile widens. White teeth. Red eyes. _Thirty white horses on a red hill,_

"What are you asking of me, Kaneki-san?"

_First they champ,_

"It would be reassuring."

Tsukiyama breathes out. A laugh. The kitchen is very dark.

_Then they stamp,_

"Are you blind?"

_Then they stand still._

"Yes."

 

**Interlude: June, Osaka**

"Kanae."

They are in the hotel suite's bathroom. Shuu has an ice pack wrapped in a towel held over his eyes. He's sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Kanae leans on the edge of the toilet bowl. Manages a short, inquiring sound.

"Ah," Shuu says, very relieved, "you're still alive. Good."

Kanae groans. Turns back to lean into the bowl. They were so drunk.

"Do you know," Shuu asks, leaning forward to rest his head and the ice pack against his knees, "why there are stuffed crabs in the living room?"

No. Kanae doesn't know. Kanae manages some sort of negative noise. 

"What did we do?"

Kanae doesn't know the answer to this question either. Shuu doesn't need a response, though, because he groans lowly. Kanae breathes out. It's a mistake. The next minute is spent throwing up. 

Wow, Kanae thinks, very hazily, the wine was really bad.

There's a knock on the frame of the bathroom door. "How are you doing?"

Matsumae. Kanae spits. Gropes to the right for the tissue to wipe up tears. It's not that Kanae is actually crying. It's not possible to avoid crying a bit after being so violently ill. Shuu makes a truly pathetic noise.

"Matsumae, we're dying."

A snort. Kanae wants to look up. Say that, yes, they are definitely dying. Kanae is too close to vomiting up the entire digestive tract, though, so moving any bit away from the toilet is not a good idea. 

"Tsukiyama-san, why are there stuffed crabs all over the place?"

Kanae groans. There's a sound of Shuu shifting. Has he dared to look up? Shuu is very brave.

"I don't know," Shuu says, definitely whining; it's justified. "Is it really important?"

"No," Matsumae says, very reasonable; how dare she be amused? "I'm glad that the two of you behaved yourselves."

Did they? Kanae doesn't know. But if Matsumae is saying something like that, neither of them did anything to embarrass or endanger the family and its interests, so it's probably fine. Kanae has a faint memory of running with Shuu from somewhere. They were laughing. Kanae, based upon the contents of the living room, can only guess they got kicked out of an arcade.

"Matsumae," Shuu says, once again morose, "why is Uncle's taste in wine so bad? How is someone of this family so misguided? What is he doing, marrying at his age? Why do they want children? Are they really in love?"

Kanae chances glancing up. Shuu is sitting up. He still has his eyes covered with the cloth and ice. Matsumae is standing next to him, brushing her fingers through his hair. It's a mess. Both Shuu and Kanae are a mess. It's eight in the morning and there is a meeting at nine. They need baths.

"Matsumae," Shuu says, and it's not a whine; there is a very plain note of desolation, "I don't want to do this."

Matsumae's expression falls. Shuu doesn't say anything else. Kanae watches her let go of Shuu's hair. He unhooks the shower head and handle. She glances at Kanae for a moment, checking, before turning her attention back to Shuu. She taps Shuu's shoulder.

"Get in the tub, Tsukiyama-san. We don't have much time."

Shuu moans but complies. Kanae sits back, forehead resting on the lip of the toilet bowl. In the tub, Shuu uses one hand to keep the ice and towel to his eyes and the other to divest himself of his clothing. He throws each piece over the edge of the tub to pile up on the floor. Kanae would normally pick up the clothes to be taken away for dry cleaning. Kanae isn't in a state that allows for that.

"Matsumae," Shuu says as he finally removes the ice and towel from his eyes to put over the side of the tub, "it's fine. Help Kanae."

He holds his hand out for the shower head. Matsumae gives it to him before turning to Kanae. She kneels down in Kanae's line of sight. Reaches out and pushes hair out of Kanae's face. A palm to forehead. Matsumae frowns.

"You're running a fever," she says, moving her hand down against cheek and then neck. "Stay here."

It's not like Kanae could hope to go anywhere. Matsumae gets up as Shuu turns on the water in the tub. Shuu hisses.

"Cold -"

But he continues to wet his hair. Washing out product. Washing his face. Neck. Shoulders. Kanae watches him. There's nothing else to watch. Not when Shuu is around. 

There's a touch to Kanae's right shoulder. Matsumae's back. The touch lingers.

"I'm going to pick you up and we're going to get you to bed."

Kanae chances a glance up. Matsumae is very close. There's slight creases by the edges of her eyes. She's tired.

" _Ja._ "

Kanae shifts just enough to let Matsumae get her arms secure. She lifts. Her shoulder is such a secure resting place. In the tub, Shuu shifts, the water from the shower head hitting the bottom of the tub.

"Face soap -"

Matsumae stands up. Lifts Kanae with her. Kanae clings, wrapping arms and legs around her chest and hips. Keeps face against shoulder, burrowing out light and space and motion.

"It's on the sink," Matsumae says, already moving towards the door. "Do your face and hair together. It'll save time."

" _Ouais, ouais,_ " Shuu says over the shower. "Take care of Kanae."

Matsumae breathes out. Shifts her hold. It's very secure.

"Yes, Tsukiyama-san."

Kanae's eyes close.

 

(Ticking)

 

"Ah..."

Kaneki looks up. He didn't sleep at all last night. Tsukiyama went back to his room, and Kaneki can't say if he slept either. He's cleaned up and gotten ready for the day, though, so there's no evidence. Kaneki isn't entirely sure, but he's beginning to suspect that Tsukiyama is very skilled with concealer.

Tsukiyama is sitting at the counter again. Banjou is sitting next to him. They're drinking coffee. Tsukiyama is looking up at the ceiling, lips parted slightly. He doesn't continue. Banjou's eyebrows draw together. 

"What?"

"There's seven of us," Tsukiyama says, still to the ceiling; Kaneki turns to the coffeemaker to avoid staring at Tsukiyama's neck. "I only have seating for four."

That's true. Kaneki turns around as he pours himself a second cup of coffee. Banjou is drinking his coffee. Tsukiyama is fishing out his phone, his mug set down on the counter. 

"What are you doing?"

Tsukiyama is texting and doesn't look up. "I'm borrowing a bigger car."

That doesn't explain anything. "From where?"

"Home," Tsukiyama says.

That doesn't explain anything either. Kaneki looks at Banjou. Banjou looks at Kaneki. In his seat, Tsukiyama hunches slightly, left hand coming up to play with the back of his hair as he texts. Kaneki doesn't know where Tsukiyama's home is. He is fairly sure, based on their conversations lately, he isn't welcome to ask.

Banjou squints before rolling his eyes. Kaneki blinks as Banjou turns to Tsukiyama, using his knuckles to gently knock Tsukiyama's left shoulder. Tsukiyama looks up, lips parting in a question.

"Where's home?"

Tsukiyama blinks again. He's looking at Banjou and typing at the same time. Kaneki takes a sip of his coffee. These beans are nice.

"I've never said?" Tsukiyama asks. 

Banjou shakes his head. Tsukiyama puts his phone down on the counter. He leans his elbow on the counter, most of his back to the kitchen. Kaneki knows better than to think that Tsukiyama is ignoring him, though. He's leaning on his right. Sword. There is a barrier between the two of them now.

"The family home is in the 9th Ward," Tsukiyama says to Banjou, and it's his teaching tone, which would be condescending if they didn't know this is just what Tsukiyama sounds like when divulging information. "We've been there since the Tokugawa shogunate was powerful. It's a very large piece of land, and I grew up getting lost a lot. My sense of direction was abominable before Matsumae taught me how to read maps."

That scrapes against something that Kaneki has been wondering. "What's the condition of ghouls like in the 9th Ward?"

Tsukiyama tilts his head back to look at Kaneki. Banjou looks at him, too, unreadable. There are faint sounds from the other occupants in the house of waking up.

"It's not the worst," Tsukiyama says, and he smiles a little, rueful. "It's not the 4th Ward, but it's not nearly as peaceful as the 20th. My family is old-fashioned enough that we take in people occasionally, but -"

Tsukiyama shrugs. Banjou is nodding. He understands whatever Tsukiyama is getting at. It seems that Tsukiyama is still willing to include Kaneki in these sorts of personal yet impersonal conversations. That gives Kaneki the courage to ask.

"What do you mean, taking people in?"

Shifting. Tsukiyama swings around on the stool, propping his head up on his left hand. His elbows rest on the table. There's something very closed off about his eyes. Tsukiyama smiles. It's very pleasant. It's not entirely artificial, but he's withholding something. He often does when he talks about his family.

"We're an old family," Tsukiyama says, a little quieter than before, "so it used to be that we took in outsiders as needed for various purposes. Nowadays, it's becoming less and less common. Partly because it's very expensive. Partly because there is a lot of unrest on all channels. Since I was born, a lot of families like mine have died out or moved away from Tokyo because it's so volatile. Some people think that this is why organisations like Aogiri Tree have become more common and powerful, but -"

Tsukiyama shrugs again. He looks down at his phone, which is flashing up messages. It gives Kaneki the opportunity to look to Banjou. He means to thank him, but Banjou isn't looking at him. He's looking down at his lap. Kaneki lifts his coffee. Sips it.

"I'm not," Tsukiyama says, "saying that's true." 

This causes Kaneki and Banjou to both look at him in mild surprise. Usually, when Tsukiyama stops talking, he doesn't pick back up in the same place. The majority of the time it's like Tsukiyama continued the conversation in his head, and, when he continues, everyone else is left to fill what they missed. Unusually, Tsukiyama is still typing on the phone. He's looking down. His eyebrows are drawn together slightly. Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama is just talking now to make noise.

"Because it's probably not," Tsukiyama says, and Kaneki has to conclude that this isn't probably noise; it is very rare that Tsukiyama gives his opinion about something that isn't food or fashion. "If you simplify it to a power vacuum, maybe, _oui, c'est possible, mais_ it's not a power vacuum. I try..."

He doesn't finish. Kaneki approaches the counter. Tsukiyama is frowning at his phone. He's tunneled into the conversation, his fingers typing furiously. It's impolite to read other people's texts, so Kaneki looks at Banjou. Banjou looks back, his lips thin. 

A door opens. Hinami comes out. She's washed and gotten mostly dressed. She looks over them all, assessing the situation very swiftly before crossing the living room and joining Kaneki standing in the kitchen. 

"Good morning, Kaneki-niisan, Banjou-san, Tsukiyama-san."

Good mornings are exchanged. Kaneki sets his half-drunk mug down on the counter, turning back to the coffee maker to get Hinami a mug as well. By the time he's done that, Hinami has gotten onto the stool across from Tsukiyama and is leaning forward to look at his conversation. Tsukiyama is still typing furiously and doesn't tell her to look away. Kaneki wonders at the comedy of manners.

"Who's Kanae?"

Kaneki knows the answer to this before Tsukiyama responds for once. "My cousin."

"The one the textbooks belonged to?"

"Yes."

Hinami frowns a bit. "Why are you telling Kanae to get out of a car?"

Kaneki had been just about to sit down on the last stool. He pauses, looking at Banjou, whose eyebrows are slowly rising.

"It's not a car."

Kaneki looks back. Hinami's expression is briefly puzzled, still watching the conversation.

"No?"

"No," Tsukiyama says before he looks up, an infinitely annoyed expression on his face. "I'm really sorry, but my father is over-complicating things. He's not usually awake this early, so I thought -"

Something flashes up on his phone. Tsukiyama looks down. His mouth twists into a displeased frown. He stands up.

"Sorry, excuse me, I need to call -"

Tsukiyama stands up and promptly wanders away. Back into his room. He closes the door behind him as he brings the phone up to his ear. It shuts. Kaneki stares for a long moment. Tsukiyama's voice starts up again, but it's another language. German. 

Kaneki looks back at Hinami. She looks a little surprised but also a bit amused. Out of the side of his eye, Kaneki can see Banjou looking at her as well. He looks as confused as Kaneki feels.

"What's going on?"

She shrugs, unworried. She picks up her coffee. Sips it.

"Tsukiyama-san will work it out."

Kaneki wonders if he's losing control.

 

**Interlude: June, Osaka**

Kanae finds Shuu sitting under an umbrella by the hotel pool. He's not reclining in the beach chair. Rather, he's scrunched himself up under the shade of the umbrella, a paperback book held in front of his knees and in his line of sight. He's not dressed for swimming. He's still dressed in a business suit. Sitting at the pool, fully dressed and even his hair still slicked back: Shuu looks out of place. 

"Shuu-sama."

He jumps. Not much, but enough for Kanae to know he's been startled. Shuu holds the book open like a shield. He doesn't relax as Kanae approaches.

"Kanae, what are you doing out of bed? Matsumae -"

"- Sent me to find you," Kanae says, drawing up next to Shuu, the umbrella, and chair. "You missed dinner."

Shuu wags his left forefinger as he turns his attention back to his book. "Skipped," he says, pulling the book so close that it must be difficult to actually read. "Word choice is everything."

Kanae had suspected that. There's a large amount of space on the chair. Kanae sits on flat surface before the sloping part for the lower legs and feet. The summer sun is very low on the horizon.

"Mirumo-san -"

"No," Shuu says, and even though he isn't looking at Kanae, the tone is enough.

So Shuu and Mirumo are disagreeing on something. Kanae had suspected this, but it's not Kanae's place to ask. Kanae looks at the spine of the book that Shuu is reading. _Spice and Wolf_ volume 4. Kanae resists the urge to sigh. Shuu is reading trash again. It means that he's been skipping out on enough things to have the time to leave the hotel, find a bookstore, and come back. Matsumae has been very lenient.

"Is this why we got kicked out of an arcade last night?"

"What?" Shuu asks, looking around his book with large, surprised eyes. "We got kicked out of an arcade? Is _that_ where the crabs are from?"

Kanae shrugs. Shuu squints. Kanae wants to tell him not to do that. Bad eyesight runs in the Tsukiyama family, especially in the main line, but Shuu's eyes are fine. Shuu blinks before he looks away. To the pool. His lips curl up. He's not seeing it. The pool is empty.

"Want to go out again?"

It's how Kanae ends up playing Taiko no Tatsujin at a very crowded arcade with Shuu. They went shopping. Shuu found an outfit that is very close to being a bondage advertisement, and Kanae has decided to go along with the theme of petty indulgences with an store mannequin's entire ensemble of Baby, The Stars Shine Bright. It's like they're cosplaying from a shaken not stirred version of _Kamikaze Girls_. No one at the arcade cares. Kanae is pretty sure that no one in the Tsukiyama family would approve.

"Shit," Shuu says as the score screen comes up; they aren't even close making to the high score table. "Who plays this game enough to get that kind of score?"

Kanae shrugs. Shuu huffs, setting the drumsticks down and reaching up to adjust the collar on his neck. Kanae sniffs. 

"I'm thirsty."

"Oh," Shuu says, glancing over as he fiddles with the collar's buckle. " _Moi aussi._ "

They buy bottled water from the vending machine towards the back of the arcade. There's four teenagers with brightly coloured bottles loitering by the vending machines and cash machine who stare at them. Kanae resists the urge to tell them not to stare. Shuu and Kanae are supposed to be incognito.

"This isn't really incognito," Shuu observes as he screws the cap back on his bottle, "is it?"

Kanae swallows a mouthful of graciously cold if somewhat plastic-tasting water. " _Nein_."

Shuu laughs. It's soft and warm. He's having fun. Kanae has to admit this is kind of fun. 

"I wonder," Shuu says as they move to peruse the contents of the UFO catchers, "is this what teenagers do?"

Kanae shrugs. Kanae is a teenager, but it's not like Kanae would know what teenagers are supposed to do. Most of the time, Kanae doesn't care, but it's moments like this, when Kanae sees that Shuu cares, that Kanae wonders.

"Ah, well," Shuu says before he tilts his head to smile at Kanae, the light in his eyes mischievous. "What do you want, Kanae? Something cute to go with your outfit?"

Kanae can't help but smile back. Shuu is happy. Or, at least, close to it. It's been a long time since Kanae has seen Shuu look unequivocally happy. Shuu hasn't been happy over the past couple of years. Kanae isn't entirely sure why. It bothers Kanae as well as the hunch that no one else in the family has noticed the change. 

It's unpleasant train of thought. Kanae looks about the machines. There's lot of video game and anime character merchandise and a lot of San-X. Kanae doesn't have any use for -

"Oh," and Kanae hears it before registering making the sound. " _Kätzchen_."

There's a large UFO catcher full of little plush kittens. They're in white and multiple pastel colours. They're made from some sort of really fluffy fabric. They're about the size of Kanae's palm. They're -

"Cute!" Shuu exclaims, leaning to look into the machine. "Would you like these? They have little chains you can hook on your bag. I bet I could win one of every colour."

Kanae looks down at the bag. It's pink with rose bouquets. Kanae looks back at the UFO machine.

"I only want the white and pink ones."

Shuu's grin is wide and uncontained. He's so happy. It chases shadows out of his eyes that even Kanae sometimes forgets to notice. He motions Kanae to stand next to him before flipping his palm up. Kanae is carrying all the coins.

" _Très bien_ ," he says. "Let's see how long it takes me to get all of those."

This is how Matsumae finds them. Kanae has twelve kitten. Eight white, four pink. Shuu loses hold of the fifth pink one when he notices Matsumae approaching them. Kanae's flight instincts war against the desire for the lost keychain.

"Matsumae," Shuu says, tone rising very awkwardly.

Matsumae comes to a stop a respectful three paces away from Shuu. She's four from Kanae. Kanae wonders how hard it is to run in buckle shoes.

"You were supposed to retrieve Tsukiyama-san, Kanae." 

Kanae should have run.

"Kanae did," Shuu agrees, standing up and partially moving in front of Kanae. "I -"

Matsumae sighs. She looks at Shuu. She's disappointed. That look is enough to make Kanae's stomach curdle. It makes Shuu fall silent. There's a faint, rhythmic pounding. Someone is playing the taiko machine.

"Your father wants to talk with you."

Shuu is so close that Kanae can see the way his right shoulder and back shifts. It's very minute and would not have been visible if he was wearing anything else. It makes the hair on the back of Kanae's neck stand up.

"I'm busy!" Shuu says, very cheerfully and very loudly. 

He spins around very abruptly to swing his left arm around Kanae's shoulders. He starts walking, away from Matsumae. Kanae follows. Kanae cannot cling to Shuu, but this works, too.

"We're out of coins!" Shuu says, still in the same tone and volume. "Do you have any cash, Kanae?"

Kanae opens the purse with some difficult with all the kittens attached to it. There's still more than enough coins. There's two ¥1000 and one ¥5000. Kanae pulls out the ¥1000 and shows them to Shuu. Shuu glances down before nodding very briefly.

They get to the vending and cash converting machines. The teenagers are still there. They stare for a moment before one of the girls glances around. Back. Kanae feeds the first ¥1000 into the cash converter. The girl looks back at them while two of her friends continue talking. She breaks away from her group, hands going to her jacket pockets as she saunters over. 

"Hey," she says, looking at first Shuu, who is putting the dispensed coins into Kanae's purse and then to Kanae, "you win all those?"

"Yes," Shuu says while Kanae mouths _is someone behind us?_

"No!" the girl says in disbelief; her eyes don't match. "These machines are always _so_ rigged."

"I'm good at them," Shuu says, very bright and boastful; Kanae mouths _thank you_.

"Win me a green one," she says.

That's fair.

 

(Ticking)

 

There is a limousine in front of the house.

"I'm," Tsukiyama looks like he's about to kill, "sorry -"

A woman in a very dour suit and a teenager with hair the same colour as Tsukiyama's when Kaneki first met him get out of it. The scent of killing intent rolls off of Tsukiyama, which is the only reason that Kaneki doesn't manage to react before Tsukiyama barrels past him, out the door, and down the stairs.

"Shuu-sama," the teenager calls, loud enough hopefully to stop Tsukiyama from killing them both, "I'm sorry, I tried."

Kaneki steps outside and heads down the stairs. Tsukiyama has stopped in front of the woman, who stares back at him with a bland, nonplussed expression. Kaneki wonders how she can do that when Tsukiyama is standing in a pace of her, his hands clenched at his sides, and so clearly about to lose his temper. Does she not know -

"Calm yourself, Tsukiyama-san," the woman says, just as bland and nonplussed as her expression. "It's unbecoming."

Kaneki boggles. There's a short intake of breath behind him. Banjou must have followed Kaneki. Tsukiyama does not, patently, calm down.

"Matsumae," Tsukiyama says, very level and therefore very enraged, "I asked to borrow a car." 

"This is a car."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything for a long moment. Matsumae stares at him with the same level expression. Kaneki feels like he's fully lost control of the situation. He looks over at the teenager. The teenager is looking at Kaneki. There's something very unnerving about the gaze.

"It is," Tsukiyama agrees before gesturing very widely. "I don't have a license -"

"It is not an issue," Matsumae says, same tone, same expression, entirely terrifying. "I will drive."

Tsukiyama turns. To the teenager. The teenager looks away from Kaneki to Tsukiyama. The expression shifts. It's a strained smile that doesn't hide any of the tension of the situation.

"Good morning, Shuu-sama."

Tsukiyama sighs. Deflates. The murderous intent that was so strong before banks. Like he threw a fire blanket over it. Tsukiyama rolls his eyes skyward and shakes his head.

"Good morning, Kanae," he says, and it's a tone that Kanae is familiar with; it's the one Tsukiyama uses when he's given up trying to explain something no one is understanding. "I should introduce everyone."

It's awkward. Kaneki shakes Matsumae and Kanae's hands. Matsumae is wearing gloves, and Kanae's hands have the same calluses that Tsukiyama's do. The way that Matsumae looks at Kaneki makes him feel like he's a bug on the wall, and Kanae's gaze seems to bore directly into Kaneki's soul. 

"Oh!" Hinami says, when she joins them after Sante goes back up to tell her it's safe. "You must be Kanae. Thank you very much for letting me use your books!"

Kanae's blinks. Looks at Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama is on his phone, but he looks up and to Kanae as if he'd expected the reaction. They stare at each other for a brief moment before Tsukiyama looks back at his phone and Kanae returns his gaze to Hinami.

"It's no trouble," Kanae says.

There's something stilted about it. Kaneki can't tell if Kanae is only being polite or if Kanae is hiding something. Hinami smiles even so, looking around them before turning to Tsukiyama.

"Is everything alright, Tsukiyama-san?"

Tsukiyama looks up. He smiles. It's the same artificial smile he had before Kaneki bit his neck in the basement. No, this is not alright, but Tsukiyama is going to let it happen. If he doesn't, then he can't predict the consequences. Tsukiyama understands damage control. Tsukiyama is a worrywort. 

" _Oui, mademoiselle,_ " Tsukiyama says. "Today will be a good day."

Tsukiyama is afraid of his family.

 

**Interlude: June, Osaka**

They are in Dotonbori, leaning on the railing over the canal. Kanae holds a very bad Starbucks filter coffee. Shuu huddles into the coat he bought as the temperature dropped enough to begin to bother him. It's Italian leather, over-priced, and too large. 

"I'm being irresponsible, aren't I?"

Kanae sips the coffee. They were stopped a few times after leaving the arcade by tourists who wanted to take pictures. This isn't Harajuku, and they stand out. Kanae knows they should behave better. They're still running away from Matsumae.

Shuu sniffs. It makes Kanae look at him. His hair is falling in his face. His makeup is still perfect. It doesn't hide how tired he looks. Shuu is looking at the ground, hands shoved deep in the ill-fitting coat's pockets. 

"What's the point," Shuu sighs.

It's not inflected like a question, but it is a good one. Kanae looks up at the Glico Man. A woman walks past them, eyes sliding over Shuu and then Kanae. She looks tired, too, carrying a briefcase that's as big as half of her. She continues on, turning onto Ebisubashi. Next to Kanae, Shuu sniffs and sighs.

"I guess that's our cue..."

The woman wasn't a Dove, but she had an uncanny resemblance to one with that large a briefcase. Shuu rights himself, tilting his head left and right. Kanae sips the coffee. Shuu moves. Kanae follows.

Mirumo and Matsumae are both in the hotel suite when Kanae and Shuu get back. Kanae is selfishly glad that Shuu unlocked the door and therefore entered first. Shuu doesn't move out of the entrance, effectively all but blocking with his body. There are CCTV cameras hallway. The emergency stairwell is alarmed.

"Shuu," Kanae hears Mirumo say, "what are you wearing?"

Kanae breathes out. If Mirumo hadn't followed up Shuu's name with a question, then it would be a fight. Shuu hasn't yet moved out of the doorway. 

"I thought I would experiment a little," Shuu says, light and pleasant. "Does it not look good?"

"It's a bit odd," Mirumo says, level and equally pleasant. "Why don't you both come in?"

Shuu steps forward. Kanae follows. Mirumo and Matsumae have remained seated. The door shuts behind them. Fire door.

"We missed you at dinner."

Shuu laughs. Lifts his right hand in a vague wave. Kanae keeps in its shadow. 

"I got a bit distracted," Shuu says before stretching and yawning hugely. "And now I am tired. I'm sorry, but I think I'll go to bed."

"Alright," Mirumo says before asking, "I will see you for coffee tomorrow?"

Shuu stops. Kanae pauses. Shuu turns back to Mirumo and Matsumae, his arms coming to his sides. The light, pleasant smile doesn't change, but it doesn't reach Shuu's eyes. It never did.

"I will meet you in the lobby," Shuu says.

Mirumo nods. He stands. Matsumae does as well. Mirumo smiles, too.

"I will be down by nine," Mirumo says before starting for the door. "Good evening, Shuu. Kanae."

They murmur pleasantries. Mirumo and Matsumae let themselves out. The door shuts behind them. Kanae stares at it for a very long time. 

"Shit," Shuu breathes. " _Shit._ "

 

(There's an alarm.)

 

Kaneki is sitting next to Tsukiyama and Kanae in the lounge of a set of personal shopper rooms in the Ebisu Mitsukoshi. Everyone else is currently in changing rooms, trying on the products that have been brought up by the army of personal shoppers that Matsumae called up before disappearing. Kaneki is only sitting down with Tsukiyama and Kanae because he managed to convince the personal shopper assigned to him that he was hungry. The man has gone to get something from the food hall. Kaneki only realised his mistake after the damage had already been done. Is there a bathroom here with enough privacy that he'll be able to -

"I'm sorry, Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, jarring Kaneki out of his worried thoughts. "I didn't intend for things to get so out of hand."

Kaneki squints at Tsukiyama. Oddly, Tsukiyama isn't looking at him. He's looking at the far wall. His eyes are distant.

"It's not your fault," Kaneki says, a bit cautiously. "You just wanted to borrow a car."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything. He doesn't look at Kaneki. There's no indication he's heard Kaneki at all. It's unsettling. Tsukiyama is always paying attention. Kaneki looks again at the wall. There's a very bland painting on it. Some sort of abstract combination of swatches of red, blue, and black. Even Kaneki thinks it's uninspired. Tsukiyama is certainly not paying so much attention to it. 

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, very soft, "you're staring."

Tsukiyama blinks. He looks over to Kanae briefly. Kanae looks back. It's like back in front of the house where they can communicate with only their eyes. Kanae looks away first, back a fashion magazine. Kanae is dogearing and writing in it just like Tsukiyama does. Tsukiyama turns his attention to Kaneki. His expression is pleasant, but his eyes are closed off. It hurts something deep inside.

He opens his mouth.

The elevator dings. Tsukiyama looks up at it. Kaneki does as well and very nearly doesn't manage to suppress a wince. His personal shopper is back and has brought an entire cart laden with lunch. Kaneki internally screams. On the outside, he forces himself to smile. It probably has too many teeth.

"Thank you very much."

The man--his name is Hitoshi, Kaneki thinks, he shouldn't be rude unnecessarily--beams. "I thought I'd go ahead and bring up something for everyone! Today's specials -"

Kaneki nods enthusiastically and tries to come up with questions during the spiel. Next to him, Kaneki can smell Tsukiyama's scent shifting back and forth between what Kaneki recognises as discomfort and something else that Kaneki isn't familiar with. Kanae is still writing on the fashion magazine.

A door opens. Hinami peers into the room, smiling brightly. Kaneki stands up immediately, stepping around Hitoshi and the cart with a murmurred apology as Hinami surveys the scene. She doesn't react visibly to the food cart, although Kaneki can smell her faint alarm adding too the increasingly disorderly scents in the room.

"Kaneki-niisan, Tsukiyama-san, Kanae-san" she says, keeping her voice upbeat very valiantly, "could you come here for a moment and help me choose between a few things?"

"Of course," Kaneki says.

They all cram into Hinami's room after the personal shopper assigned to Hinami excuses herself. It's actually not that tight a fit; it's bigger than their bedrooms back in the house. It's full with clothes, shoes, and all manner of accessories. Hinami waits for Kanae to shut the door before she lets her smile drop. She frowns.

"What are we going to do about the food?"

"Oh," Tsukiyama says, and he laughs a little, "I'm on a diet. They'll take it away and bring individual lunches."

Kaneki squints at him. Tsukiyama isn't looking at him. He's looking up at the ceiling, a very amused expression on his face. Next to him, Kanae has a similiarly amused expression. A second passes before Tsukiyama turns his attention away from the ceiling and back to them all. To Kaneki.

"It was very good of you to be so interested," Tsukiyama says, and his amusement hasn't faded. "Play along with me a bit more?"

Kaneki nods. He's not entirely sure what that entails. The word choice is very vague. But Kaneki trusts Tsukiyama to know how to smooth over the situation. Hinami breathes, her shoulders falling forward in relief.

"Okay," she says before reaching out to one of the portable racks. "I did want to ask your opinions, though, on which of these to get."

There are three different kimono ensembles. They're still children's kimono styles, but Kaneki knows immediately that they're worth more than anything Kaneki has ever bought. One of them might be worth more than Kaneki's university apartment. Certainly more than the year's tuition he'd paid.

"Why not all three?"

Kaneki shouldn't be surprised, but he is. Tsukiyama doesn't seem to notice. He crosses the small space, kneeling down to look closer at the fabric. Or, more exactly, at the quality of the embroidery on the left kimono. It's light blue and white with lotus. Hinami's eyes are very large.

"No, I can't -"

"They're very pretty," Tsukiyama says, and he looks up at her, smiling gently. "You like all three, right?"

Hinami's face screws up. She looks down at her hands. Kaneki is about to step forward when she speaks.

"What use does someone like me have for three of these, Tsukiyama-san?"

Kaneki bites his lip. Thankfully not hard enough to draw blood. Tsukiyama is frozen. Hinami smells of salt. Kaneki -

"If you don't want them, I'll take them."

Cold. That is the only way that Kaneki can describe Kanae's voice. The look on Kanae's face is perhaps the most haughty thing that Kaneki has ever laid eyes upon. Tsukiyama is staring at Kanae, clearly surprised. Hinami's eyes are huge, but she no longer smells like she's about to cry. 

"No -"

"Then let Shuu-sama buy them for you," Kanae snaps, foot tapping impatiently. "Have you been matched accessories?"

Hinami looks at Kanae for a long moment before she seems to come to some sort of conclusion. Kanae's expression doesn't change at all, but the atmosphere is not nearly as charged as before. Kaneki resists the urge to crack his knuckles. He is not in control. He is -

"No," Hinami says, smiling a little sheepishly.

"Then trouble yourself with completing the outfits!" Kanae scoffs before frowning at Tsukiyama. "Honestly, where did you get these creatures?"

"You're being rude, Kanae," Tsukiyama says, although the admonishment doesn't carry much heat. "And I met Kaneki-san at Daiei."

Kanae's gaze slides to Kaneki. It's the most unimpressed thing.

"Daiei," Kanae says, like it's a curse.

"Yes," Tsukiyama says. 

He looks at Kaneki. Out the corner of his eye. There's another shift. It's that scent from earlier. It's no longer mingled with discomfort. Kaneki can identify it now. It's impossible to misunderstand. It's Kaneki's first understanding of being a ghoul. It's the only scent Kaneki knows better than his own flesh.

"It was a summer job."

Tsukiyama is hungry.

Shit, Kaneki thinks. _Shit._


	5. Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some are small and sweet. Some are large and sour.

When Kaneki was working at Anteiku in what feels like a very long time ago, there was a regular customer who would come. They were unique. Not because they were particularly interesting physically or socially but because they were human. They were also very allergic to quite a number of things.

"Oh, no, thank you, but I've brought something for myself," she'd said the first time Kaneki served her and she turned down the menu. "This one of the few places that allow people to eat outside food so long as something else is purchased. That's why I like it here!"

Her name was Fukaku Ayumi, an inauspicious name that she was happy to joke about looking forward to getting married to take a new last name. Physically, there was nothing terribly striking about her; she had good skin, if Kaneki had to come up with something. She was an individual of a cheerful disposition despite being in a fairly deadend secretarial job at for the solicitors up the road. She came into Anteiku during her lunch hour, about two to three times a week, and never stayed more than thirty minutes. She liked to sit in the table by the window in view of the front door.

Kaneki wonders now if she knew. If she suspected what they really were. It's not the most common knowledge that ghouls can drink coffee, but she was there more than enough to have seen some of the odd things that went on. She would have seen that sometimes the shop would close for no reason, or that there were people who lived upstairs who weren't Yoshimura. If Kaneki had suspected this when he'd worked at Anteiku, he would have been afraid.

Now, Kaneki wonders. She was, despite such a normal job and appearance, such a strange human. Since escaping Aogiri Tree, Kaneki has, through Tsukiyama, heard stories about humans and ghouls working together, most memorably regarding his grandmother and the humans who owned the wagashi store. Kaneki met Hori Chie back in February when Tsukiyama had a presentation at university and wasn't able to deliver time sensitive information himself. Chie had been a bit of a shock, such a small woman who looked younger than Hinami and could eat so much food.

"Tsukiyama-kun and I go out for dessert regularly," she'd said, like it explained everything.

"We play a game," she'd explained the second time Tsukiyama had to send information via her, later in February when he had midterms. "He tells me about the coffee, and I tell him about the food. We go to different places all the time to try their stuff."

"He would play that kind of game," Banjou muttered.

It's also, Kaneki realised, a good way for Tsukiyama to build ways to talk about human food without anyone figuring out that Tsukiyama can only order water or black coffee. For someone like Tsukiyama, who naturally defaults to talking to fill dead air, the information is important enough that it could save his life. Kaneki remembers, back in January when Kaneki was having a moment when he felt like he might devour the members of his own group, Tsukiyama starting to talk about fabric.

"You know some people blame it for the decline of traditional textile industries," he'd said as Kaneki started to refocus, watching the way Tsukiyama twisted the long part of his fringe around his left forefinger. "And it certainly did change things. After all: what's the point of a weaver for silk or wool or a cotton thresher when you can get the same feel and similar appearance from a cheaper material?" 

"It's art," Banjou had said, and Kaneki had thought he was annoyed, but, looking back, he might have known what Tsukiyama was doing. "What silk weavers do is art. You can't call a machine that makes rayon an artist."

Tsukiyama laughed, bright and light. "Exactly!" he said, and Kaneki found it easier to think, to breathe. "Have you ever seen an industrial-size weaving machine?"

Banjou had shaken his head. Kaneki found himself shaking his head. Tsukiyama spread his arms, like the motion could illustrate the size of the machine.

"Think of a machine this long," he says before switching his arms and hands to make a vague estimation of height, "and this tall and about the side of our sitting area here. That's one loom. Now, think of a room, the size of, say, an Olympic swimming pool. It's full of these machines. One after another, all connected by a single program, all doing the same thing. In the past, those machines were handweavers at work stations. Everyone had about as much room as the machines do, and that's in a very big, wealthy company's operations."

"Is that what your family does?" Banjou asked, arm tucked around the back of his end of the couch.

"Oh, no," Tsukiyama said, and he'd smiled a little, a look somewhat more distant than his enthusiasm for the explanation before. "We're import-export, so we mainly source what companies like that have already made, decide if it's worth what they say it is, if it can be resold for higher prices to another company, and then arrange the transport into or out of Japan. For fabric, it's almost entirely import these days." 

It's not dissimilar to what Kaneki understands Tsukiyama once did for the Ghoul Restaurant. Kaneki has never been and he's never desired to ask about it, especially since Tsukiyama stopped his activities there once he joined Kaneki and everyone. Kaneki didn't ask him to, but he'd overheard Tsukiyama saying to Banjou he'd put his involvement there on hold. It was one of the first real conversations Kaneki knows Tsukiyama and Banjou had, back in mid-January.

"I'm busy," Tsukiyama said as he was labelling their food restock. "I have to finish university, and if I'm going to help Kaneki-san and everyone to best of my ability, I can't be splitting my attention so much."

"You sure?" Banjou asked, arms folded as he sat on the side of the counter that is in the living room. "Those places have a lot of bad blood."

Tsukiyama had looked up. Kaneki couldn't see his expression, due to the angle of his room to the kitchen and living room. A moment passed before Tsukiyama let out a soft laugh. It was almost sweet.

"Are you concerned for me, Banjou-san?" he'd teased. "How sweet."

It caused Banjou to snort. "No," he'd grumbled without heat. "You can handle yourself."

Tsukiyama can. He does. Sometimes the efficiency with which he handles himself scares Kaneki. It's very rare that Tsukiyama misses anything that goes on in the room around him, and Kaneki has found himself jealous more than once of Tsukiyama's ability to adhere to a self-imposed schedule. Tsukiyama is very good at acting oblivious and talking about nothing, but he's not oblivious or a simple noisemaker. He knows what he's doing, and he's manipulative with his words and appearance. It makes him seem untrustworthy.

Maybe that is why Kaneki started watching Tsukiyama, back in January when he didn't know Tsukiyama at all. Back then, Tsukiyama was a couple of good memories, pretty and pleasant and not much else. January and early February established Tsukiyama as a reliable person who knew which promises he could make and keep. He was pleasant and informative and clearly quite eccentric but in a way that never actually caused trouble. He was harsh and strong and confident in his allure, and that was a part of him that Kaneki liked. Had liked immediately, even back when he was sixteen and didn't understand it. 

"Tsukiyama-san?"

Tsukiyama looked up from his seat on the couch, making a questioning noise. His mouth was full of sewing pins. As Kaneki crossed the room, he could see that Tsukiyama had a bunch of heavily patterned fabric lain out on the coffee table. His lap was occupied with what appeared to be small bits of oblong fabric that he was in the process of pinning together. It made no sense.

"What are you doing?"

It meant Tsukiyama had to set down the two pieces he'd been pinning together, take the pins out of his mouth, and stick them into the cushion he had by his right thigh on the couch. He licked over his lips, an unconscious motion before responding.

"Sewing."

That was rather obvious, but Kaneki hadn't asked the most precise of questions. "What is it?"

"Oh," Tsukiyama said, and he'd motioned to his phone, which was propped up against plastic bag full of filament, "a cat doorstop."

Kaneki looked at the phone. There was a picture on it of a very ostentatious stuffed cat. It was hot pink and orange. Considering that, Tsukiyama's choice of sunflower and bright yellow fabric was a much more subdued choice. Kaneki looked back to Tsukiyama who was in the process of pinning together two more of the small fabric pieces.

"Why?"

It made Tsukiyama look up again. Due to the late hour, his hair was washed and his fringe pinned up out of his eyes. He blinked, a soft motion.

"I thought it would liven up the place," he said, smiling a little before turning his attention back to his work.

Kaneki watched him for a long moment before sitting down on the adjourning couch. He continued to watch Tsukiyama work. Watched him finish pinning fabric pieces and thread a needle. Listened as Tsukiyama started to fall into a rhythm and began humming to himself like Kaneki had heard him do while cooking. Outside, the wind blew, a late winter storm.

Maybe it was then, Kaneki thinks much later, that he stopped watching Tsukiyama and started seeing him. That Tsukiyama, humming and sewing on the couch: he seemed like someone that spent a lot of time with just himself for company. Kaneki understood that. He understands that better than anything else in this world.

Tsukiyama, like Kaneki, lives in a world where he is the only inhabitant. A kingdom of one made of high walls, deep water, and dark forest. There is no one else like Tsukiyama, and he has given up trying to find anyone. The way is shut, and the only way in is if Tsukiyama allows it. 

Kaneki, selfishly, wants Tsukiyama to let him in.

 

The food cart has been taken away, just as Tsukiyama promised it would. Individual lunch boxes have been provided for everyone. Kaneki is in the process of eating his, which is fair, since he had been the one to cause the trouble in the first place with his supposed hunger. He'll have to trust everyone else to make their own decisions. It's really nicely prepared, a healthy salad with chicken karaage and brown rice. It tastes like sewage. Kaneki is concentrating on not letting anyone onto his discomfort. 

This means that Kaneki cannot help Tsukiyama. Matsumae has returned along with a Yamamoto, who appears to be the boss of customer service and personal shopping. They've brought up what looks like an entire shipment of clothes for Tsukiyama to peruse and select from for himself. Tsukiyama's expression is the pleasant, artificial smile that Kaneki is quickly learning to despise. Not because Tsukiyama makes the expression but because Kaneki knows he's using it because he's uncomfortable. 

"Well, isn't this lovely," Tsukiyama says, extracting a white trenchcoat that looks almost exactly like a Dove's.

Kaneki shovels down another mouthful of rice. Matsumae doesn't react. Kanae's eye flicker very briefly left before he nods. Yamamoto beams.

"It's a pre-Fall exclusive for Burberry," she says, reaching over to indicate several of the pieces next to it. "These are as well."

"Hm," Tsukiyama says, and then, to Kaneki's surprise, he continues in a fairly bland tone, "I've never been impressed by their attempts at innovation, but if you do one thing well..."

Kaneki coughs. He coughs hard enough that he has to grab his napkin. The horrible taste of the food makes his eyes water, but that doesn't disguise his sudden realisation that Tsukiyama is playing a part. An arrogant elitist. If this is what Tsukiyama defaults to when he's uncomfortable, then that explains so much about Tsukiyama's public personality. It clears up the private confusion that Kaneki has always held for why Tsukiyama seems so arrogant and domineering in front of others but not within their house.

Their house. Theirs. Kaneki clears his throat. It's burning.

Kaneki uses his napkin to wipe his eyes. Tsukiyama has moved on from the coats and is looking at the portable rack with summer yukata. Matsumae and Yamamoto are conversing in low tones to each other about remeasurements and alternations. From the relaxed posture of both women, it's obvious they've dealt with each other many times in the past. Kaneki picks up his lunch again.

Kanae remains by Tsukiyama's side, a pace back from his right elbow. Kaneki hears them exchange short words and sounds instead of fully verbalised conversations. They move together without conscious thought. It makes Kaneki realise that Tsukiyama and Kanae must have trained together. Tsukiyama keeps himself at a slight angle, putting himself between Kanae and those who are closest to them. Kanae watches Tsukiyama with the intense diligence that Kaneki is used to Tsukiyama watching Kaneki. It's a defensive formation. Kaneki doesn't know what sort of kagune Kanae has, but Tsukiyama is excellent offensively but even more so defensively. Kanae, due to in part to youth, is probably weaker, and Kanae's natural build is much more fragile in comparison to Tsukiyama's. In such a formation, however, Kanae would be the main attacker as soon as Tsukiyama has to defend. Kanae must have a longer range and possibly better speed. 

Kaneki puts a piece of karaage in his mouth. In some ways, watching Tsukiyama and Kanae explains far more about Tsukiyama than living with Tsukiyama for three months has. Kanae is someone that Tsukiyama cares about and cared about for far longer than he has for Kaneki and everyone else. Kanae understands and returns Tsukiyama's care with the sort of admiration and adoration that Kaneki imagines Touka once had from Ayato. It's not just blood relation, and it's not just master and servant. 

It's trust.

And it drives home that Tsukiyama, despite his dedication, attention, and generosity, does not trust Kaneki or Banjou or even Hinami. Between Kanae and Tsukiyama, it's glaringly obvious that they trust each other completely. They would move as a singular unit in a fight, and an attack on one would be an attack on the other. Whatever is wrong between Tsukiyama and the rest of his family, it doesn't exist between him and Kanae. It makes Kaneki, as he swallows the karaage, think.

Is Kanae the reason that Tsukiyama is doing what he's doing? Is Kanae the reason why Tsukiyama finished university, was involved with the Ghoul Restaurant, and got involved with Kaneki? Is Kanae why Tsukiyama sometimes clams up and distances himself from his usually fluid explanations about ghouls and humans and the state of them in relations to himself and his family? Tsukiyama has always hid a part of himself from Kaneki. He shut down discussions that involved or got close to Kanae. 

"Yamamoto-san," Tsukiyama says, drawing the attention of both Yamamoto and Matsumae as he indicates four yukata on the rack, "I will try on these."

They all make their way into the last of the dressing rooms, Yamamoto pushing the rack. They murmur pointless conversations, a polite sort of noise-making that Kaneki has become familiar with from Tsukiyama. Kaneki stares after them, even after the door shuts. He turns back to his lunch. It's mostly finished, so he sets it aside. The bathroom is down the hall, and Hitoshi isn't back from picking out shoes for Kaneki yet.

Until today, Kaneki thinks as he shuts himself in a stall and locks it, he'd never smelt hunger from Tsukiyama. It lingers around him now, a constant source of alarm, but Tsukiyama isn't reacting to it. It hasn't changed his behavior. It's not the source of the occasional indications of discomfort that leak through. Kaneki is starting to wonder if Tsukiyama isn't feeling the hunger despite the fact his body is telegraphing it to everyone. Hunger is hell for a ghoul. Tsukiyama, of all of them, should know this.

He must. Kaneki coughs, rubbing his eyes as he leans over the toilet bowl. Tsukiyama knows intimately how both ghoul and human bodies work. He knows how to control himself so that his own kagune doesn't break his ribs and spine. He knows it through experience. He prizes his self-control.

Kaneki wretches.

Is it possible that Tsukiyama can control his own hunger, too?

It sends Kaneki's brain racing. Control. Food. Tsukiyama provides their food. He cooks their food. He calculates how many bodies they need and how far what he can provide needs to be stretched. He spends hours almost every day on that, Kaneki realises. All the instructions he writes on the packaging. The time spent making everything from a fry up to stock. Teaching Hinami and anyone else who is interested. Tsukiyama, when they aren't working or training or sleeping, is a near permanent fixture in the kitchen. It's hours of preparation, just to keep everyone fed. 

Kaneki coughs. Rubs his eyes. Tsukiyama and Banjou need the most food, but they routinely are the last to eat. Banjou because he wants everyone else to eat first, Tsukiyama because he's usually still cooking. Banjou worries incessantly about everyone's health, how they look and if they're tired. Tsukiyama is a worrywort, thinking about it in terms of numbers and material provisions. Maybe there is where they started to get along. They understand each other's worries.

These are all things that Kaneki doesn't naturally think about. Food is strength. Food is death. A large part of Kaneki finds all food repulsive. If it wasn't for Tsukiyama's provisions and Banjou's support, this whole venture would have fallen apart from the onset. And because of that, Banjou and Tsukiyama need each other. They're each other's only ports of support when Kaneki isn't right. Kaneki knows he often isn't right. Kaneki is the problem. Kaneki can't imagine what it would be like if Tsukiyama and Banjou didn't get along. If they weren't there to help each other. They would fall apart. 

Kaneki wretches.

It's a precipice. 

 

When Kaneki comes back from the bathroom, the waiting room is empty. Selfishly, Kaneki is grateful for that. It gives him time to drink some water. It gives him a moment to breathe. To steady himself. Around him, in the many dressing rooms, he can hear everyone chattering. The swish of fabric. The clinking of hangers and racks. It's noise. It's how Tsukiyama talks sometimes. Noise to fill the air. Senseless noise.

But Tsukiyama isn't senseless. None of them are. Even Kaneki, when he's hearing Rize in his ear and seeing his mother were she isn't: Kaneki has never been senseless. Kaneki knows hunger, knows it better than he knows anything else. He knows fear and weakness and loneliness. It makes Kaneki think, inanely, of _Lady Chatterley's Lover_. Tsukiyama murmured about scandal. Kaneki had thought he'd been referring to the sex. But maybe it's how money poisons you when you've got it, and starves you when you haven't. 

Kaneki sets the water bottle down. He sits, looking across the room at the uninspired abstract painting. Swatches of red, blue, and black. He thinks of Tsukiyama and Banjou, laughing together on the couch. He thinks of Tsukiyama holding the ladle while Banjou tasted from it, of Banjou cooking for Tsukiyama when he couldn't. They knew they weren't alone, not in so small a house where every sound, scent, and breath had to mingle. They knew that Hinami certainly knew everything that happened and more than likely everyone else. Banjou and Tsukiyama have built something that Kaneki has not. Cannot. What they have is soft. Gentle, even.

Kaneki is too harsh. He's too harsh even for Tsukiyama, who is harsh in his own way. In the way of being whatever it means to be an upperclass ghoul. But that kind of harshness, Kaneki is realising, isn't something that comes naturally to Tsukiyama. It reflects in the oddity of some of his behavior. The way he knows how to display himself, the way he constructs his words for manipulation, even the way he sometimes sits. There are things that Tsukiyama does naturally, like cooking or sewing or even playing on his phone, but it's none of what his world or even the world Anteiku inhabits values. 

Aside for maybe Chie, Kanae, and now Banjou and possibly Hinami, there is no one who values Tsukiyama for himself. Kaneki cannot include himself. He trusted Tsukiyama. He wanted Tsukiyama. But, until today, he didn't understand. He didn't value Tsukiyama. 

It's no wonder, Kaneki thinks lowly, that Tsukiyama is lonely. 

As if on cue, the door to Tsukiyama's room opens. Kaneki watches as Matsumae and Yamamoto file out, both with papers and clipboards in hand. Matsumae pulls the door shut behind them. Yamamoto is speaking excitedly as they move past Kaneki to the elevator. They don't bother sparing him a glance.

"He's grown up so well," Yamamoto compliments, and Kaneki is a little surprised to hear that it's impassioned and honest. "Why, I remember when he was just eight! He's changed so much over the past couple of years."

"Tsukiyama-san has grown up well," Matsumae says as the elevator door opens. "I'm sure you've heard Mirumo-san intends to retire."

"Oh, yes," Yamamoto says, a little softer as they step into the elevator. "It's such a big responsibility, but Tsukiyama-san certainly has the head for it."

"Yes," Matsumae says, "we are eager -"

The elevator door finishes sliding shut. Kaneki stares at it. Tsukiyama doesn't want to join the family business. Tsukiyama essentially hates the idea. He finds it boring and old-fashioned. To hear that it's considered a done deal, to know that Tsukiyama has little to no choice: it makes Kaneki's already unsettled stomach roll with nausea.

The door to Tsukiyama's room opens again. Kanae appears, turning slightly before stepping out to shut off the light. Kaneki watches Kanae shut the door, a careful motion that makes very little sound. For a long moment, Kanae stands there, hand resting on the door knob before lifting it and turning around. Their eyes lock.

"Kaneki-san," Kanae says, cold and bland, "I trust that lunch was satisfactory?"

Kaneki inclines his head. Kanae crosses the room. Sits down next to Kaneki on the couch. Kanae leans forward to pick up one of the fashion magazines. Kaneki watches as Kanae opens it, flipping past the table of contents to the editorial page. Kanae takes out a pen, uncapping it. It's work. Kaneki looks away. Back to the painting. A faint scent of roses wafts from Kanae, much like it sometimes does from Tsukiyama. It's not a ghoul thing. Kaneki has to try very hard not to clench his hands. Crack his knuckles.

_What is 1000 minus 7?_

Next to Kaneki on the couch, Kanae sighs. It makes Kaneki look over. Kanae leans forward to put the fashion magazine and pen on the tabletop. It's the same sort of air that Tsukiyama has when he wants to keep working but isn't quite in the right mindset. They are incredibly similar to the point of uncanniness. If Kaneki didn't know any better, he would have thought that Kanae and Tsukiyama were siblings instead of cousins.

Kanae sits back. Before Kaneki find somewhere else to focus his attention, Kanae glances over at Kaneki and holds Kaneki's gaze. It's steady and intense, just like Tsukiyama's. In the beginning, Kaneki had thought that Tsukiyama kept eye contact like that as a form of challenge. It took Kaneki witnessing what Tsukiyama actually looks like when he's challenging someone with bloodlust and harshness seeping out of every part of him to tell the difference.

Kaneki wonders if Kanae is like that. If Kanae, when roused, seeps bloodlust and harshness in the same way that Tsukiyama does. It's such an integral part to who Tsukiyama is. Far more so than Kaneki, who once was human and meek but good. Kaneki can see the moral boundaries and knows why the things they do are wrong. He does them anyways, and that's his own failing. Tsukiyama can't see it. To him, what Kaneki has become is normal.

But even Tsukiyama understands that he should hide what Kaneki and he are from Hinami, at least to a certain extent. They never had to discuss that. Kanae is nearly the same age as Hinami. They are on that universal and strange bridge between childhood and adulthood. Kaneki cannot imagine Hinami doing so many of the things that Kaneki himself has done, both willingly and unwillingly. He would do anything to make sure Hinami doesn't have to. Kaneki wonders, with a sinking feeling deep in his gut, if Tsukiyama wants to protect Kanae as much as he can, too. 

Next to him, Kanae's lips curl. It's not a smile. It's the same strange grin that Kaneki is used to Tsukiyama doing when they're out investigating. Slowly, softly, Kanae tilts his head. Lift his chin. It exposes his neck. It's exactly the same as what Tsukiyama does. It never fails to hold attention.

"So you're the thing Shuu-sama's gotten involved with."

Thing. Kaneki wonders if he should be offended. Kanae's lips curl further upward. It's the same smile that that Tsukiyama used in the ghoul nightclub before gouging out the target's eyes with his fingers. It's the only time that Kaneki has seen Tsukiyama be unnecessarily violent. Kaneki hadn't been watching close enough. Tsukiyama and the target had been dancing together, close enough to touch. Kaneki had thought it was a scene he didn't have to watch.

"Unpleasant."

If Kanae was anyone else and if they were anywhere else, Kaneki wouldn't stand for this. But if he's right and Kanae is like Hinami to Tsukiyama, it isn't just the situation that Kaneki would jeopardise by reacting. If Kaneki hurts Kanae, even just a little bit, that will be the end of everything that Kaneki has ever wanted. Tsukiyama will make sure of it.

"I don't know why it has to be something like you," Kanae says, contempt dripping from every syllable, every letter, "but I'm not here to question Shuu-sama's decisions."

Kaneki will regret this.

"Then what are you here for?"

Kanae's hand lifts. Finger extended. Kanae is indicating Tsukiyama's closed door. This isn't a choice. This is Kaneki's last chance.

"Take responsibility."

 

It's dark. 

The room is lightly perfumed. Roses. Kaneki only notices because it's already a scent he associates with Tsukiyama. The entire room, under that perfume, reeks of hunger.

The door shuts. The light from the doorway when Kaneki stepped gave him enough sense of the layout of the room to figure out that Tsukiyama is lying down on the couch. He's curled himself up under a blanket. Kaneki has no idea where he got it, but this is a department store; they probably think of everything to satisfy their wealthiest and most important customers. 

"Tsukiyama-san?"

A soft noise. Kaneki makes sure the door is completely shut before crossing the room. He makes sure to telegraph each of his steps. Puts down his heel audibly even to human. Toe. He stops, a couple paces before where he knows Tsukiyama is lying down.

"Are you alright?"

No verbal response. Tsukiyama's stomach growls. It makes Tsukiyama shift. Fabric moving over leather. Like he's curling up on himself.

Kaneki starts to bite his lip. Stops himself. If he accidentally splits it, that will be the end of both of them. He shouldn't be here. It should be Kanae. Banjou. Hinami. But instead it's Kaneki, who is too harsh and wants to bite Tsukiyama's neck. Kaneki -

"Should -"

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama whispers, very strained, "what do strawberries taste like?"

That draws Kaneki up short. Strawberries. When they first met, Kaneki was putting best before dates on strawberries. Tsukiyama must remember this. He must be asking this question on purpose. 

Kaneki swallows.

"It's different," he says, and he can hear how strained his own voice is. "Depending on the breed. Where they're grown. Some are small and sweet. Some are large and sour."

Under the blanket, Tsukiyama shifts again. Curling tighter. Kaneki can hear a soft, repetitive noise. Hair and skin. Tsukiyama must be playing with his hair.

"I," and Kaneki doesn't know what to do; he needs to keep talking, needs to fill the air, "used to like to eat strawberries with whipped cream. I've never been much of a cook. Mostly prepackaged meals and takeaway. But I know how to do a few things. I really liked whipped cream when I was a kid. My -"

His voice cracks. Kaneki clenches his hands. His knuckles pop. On the couch, Tsukiyama doesn't move. The repetitive sound of skin and hair is the only indication that he's there at all. Take responsibility. For what? What is Kaneki's responsibility? What does Tsukiyama want from him? What -

"My mother," Kaneki chokes out, and maybe it's louder than he should be, but this is all he has, "used to whip cream, real heavy, white cream, and she would put it in a bowl and slice strawberries over the top. We used to do that together when I was really little, and I think, I think--I think we had fun -"

A soft noise. It's high and weak. It's painful to hear. Kaneki shuts his mouth. Clenches his jaw. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know if he should back up or approach or stand still. Tsukiyama has no concept of personal space. Kaneki bit him. Tsukiyama fought back. He hurt Tsukiyama. Kaneki -

"Sorry," Tsukiyama says, and it's so soft it's almost impossible to hear. "You don't have to talk about that." 

Kaneki sucks in a breath. Swallows. It's like he's gulping sand. 

"I want," and maybe this is true and maybe it's not; it's not like Kaneki knew what he was doing in the first place, "to help."

Quiet. The sound of skin and hair has stopped. The room smells of roses and hunger, leather and plastic and fabric. It's a strangely industrial scent. Only a city could smell of so many conflicting things.

Tsukiyama breathes out. A wavering.

" _Ci lasceremo_ -"

Kaneki steps forward. 

" _Alla stagion dei_ -"

Kaneki reaches out. His hand upon where he approximates Tsukiyama's head is. Fingertips brush over his hair. Kaneki doesn't know why he does it. Doesn't try to understand it. He only knows that the last time he heard Tsukiyama sound like that, Tsukiyama had Banjou. Banjou knew what to do. Knew how to stop it. Kaneki only knows he can't let Tsukiyama break his act more than he already has. Not here, not in this place that neither of them are in complete control of. It's not their house.

"I want," Kaneki repeats, louder, surer, "to help."

It makes Tsukiyama shudder. A laugh escapes. High and sharp and pained. Tsukiyama shifts, pushing himself out from under Kaneki's hand. Sitting up. Kaneki cannot see him in the dark. He wonders if Tsukiyama can. If he has night vision that Kaneki's human eye lacks.

"No," Tsukiyama says.

It's tight and controlled and everything that Kaneki wishes he could be and is growing to hate. It's like Tsukiyama has gutted him again. It's a thousand times worse. Kaneki stands. Hand raised. Frozen.

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and it's softer, thinner, ready to disappear, "you don't."

And, suddenly, Kaneki understands. 

Kaneki steps forward. Reaches out. Tsukiyama's shoulders are hunched forward. He's shaking, and he's cold in comparison to Kaneki. He smells like roses and hunger and soap. Kaneki wants Tsukiyama. Trusts him. Values him. More than anything else in this world.

Kaneki leans into Tsukiyama. Rests his left cheek against Tsukiyama's right. Tsukiyama has gone completely still.

"Please," Kaneki says, and he's telling the truth. "Let me help."

Against Kaneki's neck, Tsukiyama breathes out. It makes Kaneki shudder, his heart pounding in his mouth, lips, all the way through his body. Tsukiyama sucks in a deep breath. He doesn't touch Kaneki. Doesn't move. Tsukiyama is all about self-control.

Kaneki hates it.

"I want," Tsukiyama whispers, and it is a wretched sound, his lips moving, brushing against Kaneki's flesh, "to feel. Something. Anything. Not this _nothingness_ -"

Kaneki swallows. He lifts his right hand. Touches his fingers to the back of Tsukiyama's head. Rests his palm against the curve of the skull. Against Kaneki's skin, Tsukiyama breathes out, hot and stuttering. Kaneki wishes he would bite. That he would cry. Anything.

"I don't understand what is wrong with me."

Kaneki doesn't know. Doesn't have the answers. He doesn't understand even half of what lies between them. He shifts his fingers over Tsukiyama's hair. He's shaking. They both are.

"What," and maybe Kaneki is a fool, but maybe Tsukiyama is, too, "do I smell like?"

Tsukiyama breathes in. There's a small, high sound. Kaneki lifts his left arm. Wraps it around Tsukiyama's shoulders. Kaneki wants to hold Tsukiyama. Wants to keep him close. More than anything else in this world, Kaneki wants -

"I don't know," Tsukiyama chokes. "You smell different. Sweet? Sour? Like strawberries? I don't _know_."

Kaneki shuts his eyes. He tightens his hold. Holds Tsukiyama against himself and wishes.

"You don't have to," Kaneki says; he doesn't recognise his voice. "You don't have to."

Kaneki wishes, deep down inside that dark, isolated room, that they could be together forever.


	6. Cardamom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aside from how he became briefly hysterical in a Daiei parking lot, Tsukiyama Shuu forgot everything about that day for the next two years.

**Summer, 3 Years Ago**

_Come home_

That's it. That's the text. Shuu receives it from his father after Shuu comes out of an eleven o'clock lecture on Chinese economic policies. He stands for a long moment in front of the lecture hall's door, thumbs poised over the keyboard.

 _When?_ he texts back.

There isn't an immediate response. Shuu stares at the phone for a long moment, standing still in front of the lecture hall. There aren't any other students filing out anymore, and if he stays much longer, he'll start to stand out. Shuu chews his bottom lip before locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket.

Why? Why now?

He pushes the thought down. It doesn't do to think too much about it. Father will have a reason. There is always a reason. Shuu walks across campus to the main street, crosses it after waiting for the signal, and continues north towards Anteiku. He has three hours before his next lecture. He feels like he needs some good coffee.

It's lunchtime, so even Anteiku is a bit crowded. Yoshimura is behind the counter along with Irimi and Koma, the latter two whom squint at him suspiciously. Shuu smiles, waving before making his way over to one of the two empty tables, the one furthest from the door. Yoshimura comes out from behind the counter, smiling pleasantly. Close-lipped. So polite.

"Tsukiyama-kun, it's good to have you come by."

He knows something's wrong. Yoshimura is polite and might not have been born upperclass, but he's been around the block. The Non-Killing Owl. A fully realised kakuja. It takes some of the sting off the fact Yoshimura is able to read Shuu like a book. 

"It's pleasant here," Shuu says, and he knows his smile is perfect, too. "The coffee is very good."

Yoshimura's smile softens a little. He's figured out that Shuu is here to hide. Not from anything particularly dangerous, which was his concern before. But Shuu is hiding nonetheless. Shuu rarely needs to take advantage of any sort of safe haven. He shouldn't. He doesn't need them. He's been responsible for himself since he was eight.

"I take it you'll have your usual."

Shuu inclines his head, hands folded neatly on the table where Yoshimura can see them. "Yes, thank you."

A slight bow and then Yoshimura moves away. Shuu watches him, more out of habit than any real reason. He lets himself look back to his hands once Yoshimura goes back behind the counter. Takes a moment to pry his fingers apart. 

Why? Why now? What could possibly be so important that his father would call him back in the middle of the week and just before midterms for summer session? Shuu shifts his hand to his pocket. Pulls out his phone. He unlocks it even though his lock screen shows he hasn't received any new messages. Maybe he should text Chie. Talk about something inane.

A soft footstep and a cup of coffee appears in his peripheral vision. Shuu looks up from his blank stare at his phone to Yoshimura, who sets down a steaming cup on the table. Shuu draws his lips into a smile. Yoshimura returns it. Polite. Close-lipped. Perfect.

"Please, enjoy."

"Thank you," Shuu says.

He sets his phone down on the table as Yoshimura moves away. Picks up the coffee. It's hot and strong and slightly sweet in the back of his throat. Exactly how he likes it. Shuu sighs. It warms his mouth, throat, chest, belly. If Shuu was alone, he would cradle the cup to his chest. But he isn't, so he'll just have to be satisfied with sipping it and enjoying the warmth. It might be summer outside, but he feels like he should have brought a coat.

Well, when he goes home, he'll get to see Kanae and Matsumae. Whatever it is his father wants will be worth for it to see them. Shuu knows it's poor of him to avoid going home as he does, even if Shuu really does have a lot that he's doing. He could always do more. It's not like university and the occasional provision to the Ghoul Restaurant takes up all of his time. Lately, Shuu has been spending far too much time just lying in bed or sitting on the couch in his apartment. It's not even that he's tired. He stares at the same pages in a book or the television for hours and doesn't do anything.

Shuu sips his coffee. His phone is still activated, so he can see the time. 12:43. He'll need to finish and pay by one o'clock if he wants to get back to campus and have some time to study. If his father wants him to come back before sunset, though, he'll have to skip his afternoon lecture. It's supposed to be on U.S. constitutional law and its international influence, and Shuu had been looking forward to the lecture. It's not a topic he knows anything about, so it would be a chance to learn something new. Maybe he'd never like it. It's hard lately to find new things he likes.

Maybe he's getting picky. Shuu sets his cup down on the saucer. He feels like rolling his eyes at himself. He picks his phone back up with a quick glance at the battery meter (87%) and taps open his email. There's nothing in there he hasn't read, but maybe looking at it will give his mind something to focus on other than his own thoughts. A seminar on Thursday on Singapore and education in the second half of the twentieth century. Advertisement for a medical research scheme that needs participants. Two identical emails from different student organisations for a clubbing experience next Tuesday. 

Shuu sets his phone down. Puts his hands around his coffee cup. He feels like screaming. He's had a lot of practice to know when and when not to do that. This is one of the times when he should not. 

Shuu lifts the cup to his mouth. Sips it.

It's warm.

 

Things are tense.

"I'm needed at home for a bit," Tsukiyama explains, smiling pleasantly and demeanor intangible, "but I will be back tomorrow by early afternoon."

There's no evidence of what happened in the changing room. Tsukiyama doesn't give any of it away in his visual presentation nor his scent. It's like Tsukiyama became water, washing away without a trace back to sea. Bland and empty and ephemeral.

It makes Kaneki want to scream. For a moment, before the elevator had come back up, bringing Matsumae, Yamamoto, and Hiroshi back, there had been something. Tsukiyama's lips against Kaneki's neck. Words that mattered on their lips. But as soon at the elevator made its light noise: it was a gunshot. Tsukiyama had jerked back. Out of Kaneki's arms. Away.

"The light," Tsukiyama had said before getting up and dashing to slam it on. "Kaneki-san, you need to stand up."

Kaneki hadn't understood, but he'd complied. He watched as Tsukiyama hastily wiped at his eyes and mouth, to the sound of Kanae talking to Matsumae in the lounge. Stalling. Kanae was stalling for Tsukiyama. They really are, Kaneki had thought, a perfect fighting unit.

"Shit," Tsukiyama whispered; he'd caught sight of himself in the triple mirrors. "That's what I look like? _Shit._ "

He turned away from them, hastily running his hands over his shirt front and sleeves. His back was to Kaneki. To the mirrors. Kaneki doesn't know what Tsukiyama saw to make him react like that. There were a lot of things wrong, but there was nothing wrong with how he looked. 

That was how they were found. Tsukiyama standing next to the light, appearing to be about to step out into the waiting area. Kaneki standing back near the couch, which had nothing aside from a used blanket on it. The instant the door opened, the Tsukiyama Kaneki had been holding, touching, feeling: he slipped away. Tsukiyama's body was there, but that person, the real, breathing, shaking Tsukiyama, was gone. Swept out to sea.

He did it himself, Kaneki had thought insanely. He'd just watched Tsukiyama drown himself. 

The horror of that knowledge is the only reason Kaneki didn't try and shut the door. Didn't shut Tsukiyama's family and the personal shoppers out. Didn't bring the situation back into some semblance of his or Tsukiyama's control. And that was how it went. The rest of the day flowed by, utterly in the hands of Matsumae and the personal shoppers. Kaneki, Tsukiyama, and everyone else were just there to play their parts. Kaneki doesn't even know what his part was. 

It makes him want to scream. But he can't. The only person who could scream and make any sense in the situation was Tsukiyama, and he didn't. He opted to drown himself instead. It's more terrifying than anything Kaneki has seen him do. Kaneki has seen Tsukiyama dissect a ghoul. Had encouraged it. It was for Kaneki's entertainment.

Kaneki wonders, with increasing certainty, if he's a bad person.

Banjou pulls Kaneki aside as soon as they get home and go down into the basement together, leaving Hinami, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante to themselves upstairs. Tsukiyama has left in the limousine with Matsumae and Kanae. Banjou's lips are thin and his eyes are pinched. He doesn't hide his distress.

"What's going on?"

Kaneki shakes his head. He doesn't know. Banjou's eyes flit back and forth over Kaneki's face. Looking for lies. For once, Kaneki isn't lying. That even Banjou looks at him like that -

Banjou looks down. Shuts his eyes as he brings his hands up to rub over his face. He rubs his eyes. His mouth twists, his bottom lip moving briefly between his teeth. His lips are a bit chapped.

"Damn it," Banjou swears, sitting down on the basement floor and resting his elbows on his knees.

Kaneki can't help but agree. He sits down as well. Pulls his knees up against his chest. The basement is cool and smells faintly of sweat and cleaning products. Kaneki rests his chin between his knees. Banjou is looking down at the back of his hands, his shoulders up around his ears.

"Well," Banjou says, very low, "it explains a lot."

That makes no sense. "What does?"

It makes Banjou look up. He frowns at Kaneki. Not displeasure but close to it.

"You couldn't tell?"

Kaneki feels a spike of irritation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Banjou gapes at him for a moment before he shuts his mouth. Lips pursed. His eyes flicker back and forth again. He bites his lip before his lips part. He breathes out.

"You haven't noticed," Banjou murmurs, half to himself before his eyes focus entirely on Kaneki. "Tsukiyama has been terrified of something for months. I thought it was you. And he is scared of you sometimes, but it's not the same. I thought it might be that woman, Matsumae, but it's not her either. It's -"

"Home."

Banjou nods. He bites his lower lip again. Looks down at his hands. Kaneki sucks in a breath. His chest stings. He'd guessed earlier in the day that Tsukiyama was afraid of his family. He's afraid of his home. Tsukiyama is scared of both things, but he obviously cares for Kanae and maybe Matsumae, so he lets his family and whatever else is associated with home control him. It's sickening to understand because that really does explain so much of Tsukiyama's behaviour. Why he keeps coming back and helping even when Kaneki treats him like he does. This house, their house: even with Kaneki here, Tsukiyama feels safer than he does in his own home.

It makes Kaneki feel so sad. But there is another part, the harsh, bad part, that twists and writhes. It makes Kaneki swallow. His fingers curl. His knuckles crack. There's something worthwhile about this place for Tsukiyama. There is a chance he could choose to stay. Despite of Kaneki. Because of Kaneki.

Kaneki is a bad person.

 

**Summer, 3 Years Ago**

His father hasn't texted or called him back. It's almost six in the evening, and Shuu has no more excuses to kill time on campus. He has no excuses to be out in the evening. There's no interesting targets for the Ghoul Restaurant. There are no more books he needs from the library, and he's already had coffee out at Anteiku and again on campus after his afternoon lecture. He isn't hungry, and Chie is busy. He's sitting in his car in the campus parking structure. He's been sitting in here for almost twenty minutes. Checking his phone. His phone battery is at 24% because he's been checking it incessantly even though it should vibrate if he has a message. 

Shuu tries not to indulge this part of himself, but he feels like crying. He's so frustrated. With his father. With his phone. With himself. It was so difficult to pay attention in lecture and an exercise in near futility not to glance at his phone every ten seconds. Why won't his father text back? Why is Shuu wasting so much of his energy worrying about it? Why is he just sitting here in his car? What is wrong with him?

His phone pings. He snatches it up. The locked screen flashes. It's Chie.

_Hey, can you do me a favour?_

Shuu doesn't even have to think as he swipes to unlock and type back. _Yes. What is it?_

The little _..._ bubble pops up immediately under his message. Shuu takes a moment to take a long breath. It's not deep because he's distressed enough that he can feel his kagune shifting around under his skin. He has to limit how much he moves his chest and back muscles. Luckily, he doesn't feel his kakugan nor have his senses heightened beyond mild panic. He can't lose anymore control than he already has. 

The messages comes through. _Can you buy me gin?_

Shuu blinks. Frowns. 

_Why?_

He doesn't turn twenty for another nine months. Admittedly, he is more likely to be able to get away with buying alcohol underage than Chie is. Shuu also has a fake ID currently in his wallet that puts him at twenty-one, but that's supposed to only be for emergencies or if he's hunting somewhere that requires he be older than he really is. Chie has fake IDs as well, but it's not like she can lie about her age. Most people don't believe her real ID.

Chie texts back quickly. _I need it for baking. I'll show you how to bake these cupcakes if you get the gin._

Well. Why didn't she say so in the first place? Shuu feels his lips twitch as he texts back. His breathing is coming a bit easier.

_OK. Do you need anything else?_

A short pause before: _Cardamom._

Shuu knows of the word. It's some sort of spice. He's never actually seen it or bought it before, but it should be easy enough to find if he goes to a larger grocery or supermarket. He types back another fast _OK_ before plugging his phone in with his car adapter and starting his engine. 

Gin and cardamom. Cardamom and gin. Shuu runs those two things over in his head as he backs out of his space. There's a large Daiei about halfway between here and Chie's apartment building. It's got parking underground. That should work. 

Shuu aggressively does not think about anything else.

 

Tsukiyama comes back earlier than he originally estimated. Kaneki hears a car pull up in front of the house just past three-thirty in the morning. There's the sound of the car door opening and closing. It drives away as Kaneki sits up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. 

He's out and in the living room by the time Tsukiyama unlocks the front door. He's looking down at his keys as he comes in, so Kaneki gets a split second to hopefully control his own expression. Tsukiyama starts to look up just as Banjou's door opens. Tsukiyama freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in both Kaneki and Banjou. 

"Oh," he says, very awkwardly, still standing half in and half out of the front door, keys just removed from the lock.

It's instinct more than anything else that makes Kaneki move forward. Grabs Tsukiyama's right forearm before he can retract it and the keys. If Kaneki had thought about it at all, he wouldn't have been able to catch Tsukiyama, who had just started to back out and shut the door again. Banjou crosses the room as well, framing Kaneki's back. Tsukiyama stares at them, eyes the size of saucers.

"I -" he says, and his eyes skitter back and forth, alarmed and pupils blown. "I don't -"

Kaneki tugs him. Lightly. Tsukiyama doesn't move. His eyes flick from Kaneki's face up to Banjou's, back to Kaneki, back to Banjou. Kaneki makes the mistake of breathing in for the first time since he grabbed Tsukiyama.

Banjou's already smelt it. "You're drunk."

Tsukiyama flushes. His gaze moves away from both of them. Towards the stairs that lead up to the front door. His right hand's fingers fiddle with his keys.

"No..." he says, very slowly, before chancing a glance back up at Banjou; he blinks and then smiles, a very sweet little thing. "And what would it matter if I was? I took a taxi."

It's the same mellow tone that he had when he was eating plasma that time they'd talked over the phone. Kaneki tightens his hold on Tsukiyama's arm. Tugs harder. Tsukiyama looks down at Kaneki's hand. Back up to Kaneki's face. His fingers tighten on his keys. Something moves in his eyes. It doesn't go with such a sweet smile.

"Come in."

Banjou backs up. Kaneki steps back. Keeps his hold on Tsukiyama. For a horrible moment, it looks like Tsukiyama isn't going to follow. But then he blinks and whatever that was in his gaze is gone. He lets Kaneki pull him in. Lets Banjou shut the door. Kaneki let go his arm. It leaves the three of them standing awkwardly in the tiny foyer. Kaneki with his back to the couch. Banjou with his back to the kitchen. Tsukiyama with his back to the door. He looks down, still flushed. He fiddles with his keys by his right side. They make faint metallic clinking noises.

It's Banjou that speaks first. "You okay?"

Clink. Clink. "Of course," but he's saying it to the floor.

Kaneki dares to breathe in again. Banjou smells strongly of barely controlled worry and faint distress. Tsukiyama smells like sour blood and very weakly of discomfort, but otherwise he's oddly empty. Characterless. He's not feeling anything. 

"You're lying."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything for a long moment. He continues to fiddle with the keys, the soft clinking slowly grating on Kaneki's nerves.

Suddenly, Tsukiyama straightens. Lifts his chin. Smiles. His eyes move with it, a perfect imitation of flippant relaxation. Even the weak scent of discomfort disappears. It's terrifying. It's drowning.

"No, I'm not," he says, very bright and light and utterly unaffected. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm tired. My apologies, but I think I'll go to bed."

A part of Kaneki is so horrified that it cannot form an articulate thought. Another part, the harsh, probably bad part, is angry. So very angry. How dare Tsukiyama act like this? He's supposed to be the responsible one. He's in charge of so much, and they depend so much on him, but he's acting like this, and Kaneki -

"What the hell."

Banjou steps forward. Grabs Tsukiyama by the left elbow and starts to drag him into the kitchen. Kaneki is surprised. So, apparently, is Tsukiyama because he lets it happen. His eyes are the size of saucers again. Kaneki watches, utterly thrown, as Banjou manhandles Tsukiyama to sit on one of the stools before he lets go and turns to open the refrigerator. If this had been any other circumstance, Kaneki is almost one-hundred percent sure that Banjou would have gotten punched in the face. Either Tsukiyama's reaction time is severely impaired or he isn't processing things fast enough to react. Kaneki hadn't thought that he would ever consider Tsukiyama docile. Apparently, when he's drunk, he is.

That, more than anything else so far, sits sour in Kaneki's gut. If Tsukiyama is docile when he's drunk -

Banjou pulls out a half-full container of chopped liver and kidneys. He shuts the refrigerator, a bit more forcefully than necessary. Tsukiyama winces. Kaneki crosses the living room to sit down on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter from Tsukiyama. Banjou uncovers the container and puts it in the microwave.

"Really -" Tsukiyama starts.

Banjou shuts the microwave and keys in a full minute. Starts it. He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest as he fixes Tsukiyama with the most complicated expression that Kaneki has ever seen Banjou throw at anything or anyone. Kaneki feels like he could spend the rest of his life trying to read it. It's like _Ulysses_.

"You okay?"

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything. There's faint clinking noises. Kaneki can't see it from the way the counter is, but Tsukiyama is looking down. He must be fiddling with the keys still. He doesn't answer and the silence stretches until the microwave pings. The scent of reheated blood and flesh permeates the air when Banjou opens the door.

The clinking stops. "Really," Tsukiyama says, and while it's still fairly level there's a combative undertone, "this is unnecessary."

Kaneki clenches his hands against the meat of his thighs. "Is it?"

It makes Tsukiyama glance at him. He doesn't hold the gaze, though. It's a brief upward movement of his eyes in Kaneki's direction before they fall back to his lap. Banjou is in the process of transferring the reheated food into a bowl. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama's attention shift to that. The flush to his skin from earlier is gone. His hair is starting to come unstyled, strands falling over his cheeks. His eyes are still dilated, and he looks paler than usual. A little queasy even. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki starts, very carefully, "what happened?"

It makes Tsukiyama's gaze drop to his lap again. Banjou turns around and sets the bowl and a spoon next to Tsukiyama on the counter. There's a long moment where Banjou stands close enough to Tsukiyama that their bodies are probably touching under the counter. If Kaneki was in any other mood, he knows he would be in danger of becoming jealous. Right now, for once in his life, Kaneki is actually in control of his emotions.

Banjou reaches up. Clasps his right hand over Tsukiyama's left shoulder. Tsukiyama's gaze remains downcast, but the muscles in his back twitch. Another wince.

"Eat."

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tsukiyama doesn't move. Banjou keeps his hand on Tsukiyama. Kaneki presses his fists harder against his thighs. Very slowly, Tsukiyama breathes out. It's not a sigh. Just a thin gust of breath.

He picks up the spoon and starts to stir the contents of the bowl unenthusiastically. Banjou lightens his hold a bit as he sits down on the stool next to Tsukiyama. Kaneki watches as Tsukiyama shifts through the liver and kidney chunks in the blood. It reminds Kaneki inanely of looking for onions in curry.

Banjou nudges Tsukiyama's shoulder very gently with the flat of his palm. "Eat it," he iterates again. "Don't play with it."

Tsukiyama looks up at Banjou. Glares. Colour works it way back over his cheeks. Kaneki would think that Tsukiyama was mad, but there's not actual emotion about him. His scent has nothing tangible to it at all. He seems to just be allowing himself to react and not actually feeling any of it. 

"It's hot."

"It's body temperature," Banjou says, the same tone as before.

Tsukiyama looks down. Into the bowl. He starts the process of swirling the blood and meat around again. Kaneki is starting to feel queasy himself. 

"Did you eat at home?"

More swirling. Kaneki grits his teeth. This is -

Banjou tightens his hold on Tsukiyama's shoulder again. "Don't lie."

The swirling stops. Tsukiyama stares into the bowl. It's like how he stares into his coffee sometimes. As if he'd like to drown in it. Tsukiyama dampens his emotions. Tsukiyama doesn't feel anything. He's drowning himself. 

It makes Kaneki feel desperate.

"Tsukiyama-san -"

"Can," and Tsukiyama only interrupts if he absolutely must; he's so concerned with being polite, "we not talk about this?"

Kaneki swallows. Nods even though he wants to jump across the counter and shake Tsukiyama. Banjou's there, though, and he's holding Tsukiyama in place. Tsukiyama is docile right now. Kaneki watches as he uses the spoon to extract a small chunk of meat. He uses the spoon to drain off the blood against the side of the bowl. Kaneki watches, probably far too closely, as Tsukiyama lifts the spoon. Meat into mouth. Lips close. Spoon back into the bowl. Tsukiyama chews very politely. Lips shut. He swallows.

The process repeats for a while. Tsukiyama eats the chucks of meat after draining off as much of the blood as possible. He spends the entire process looking down into the bowl, like this is somehow more difficult than rocket science. After the first couple of bites, Kaneki notices that Banjou's thumb is rubbing small, soothing circles against Tsukiyama's shoulder. Banjou himself is watching Tsukiyama's with the same amount of wariness that Kaneki is if not more.

It makes no sense, Kaneki thinks privately, wildly. He's seen Tsukiyama eat before. He regularly tastes his food while he's cooking. He'll eat with everyone else after training. Sure, he and Banjou don't get quite enough to eat, but that can't be helped. It's why Tsukiyama makes so much soup stock. Why Kaneki sometimes turns a blind eye if Tsukiyama or Banjou eat unnecessary parts of humans they need information from. It's economical. It prevents him and Banjou from getting hungry. Tsukiyama isn't squeamish. So why? Why is Tsukiyama acting like this?

Tsukiyama makes to push the bowl away after he finishes the last of the meat, but Banjou nudges him again, that strange, gentle push with the flat of his palm. "It's fresh. You should finish it."

The strange look from before crosses over Tsukiyama's eyes. He half looks up at Banjou, lips pulling on a slight frown. It's the appearance of the frown that helps Kaneki recognise the expression. It's hopelessness. Banjou's face falls as he recognises it, too, just as Tsukiyama looks down and off to the right. 

"Don't want it," he says, very soft, barely a whisper. "Not hungry."

Kaneki swallows. Banjou looks at Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama stares off to the side. The corner of the counter. There's nothing there.

"Tsukiyama-san," and Kaneki knows he's breaking a massive unspoken rule, but it's the only thing he can think of, "is food an issue at home?"

Tsukiyama goes completely tense. He doesn't say anything. He's barely breathing. His eyes move back and forth, but they're unfocused. Not looking for anything. Nothing that's there, at least. Kaneki catches Banjou's eye. Banjou looks like he understands. He looks devastated.

Abruptly, Tsukiyama shoves the bowl away. It skids across the counter, the spoon spinning in it wildly. Kaneki manages to catch it before it falls off and splatters all over the floor. On the other end of the counter, Tsukiyama folds his arms and puts his head down atop of them. There's a clattering noise. Tsukiyama's keys falling on the ground. He doesn't move to pick them up.

"Don't want to talk about it," Tsukiyama says, and it's a little louder than before but muffled by his position.

Banjou draws in a deep breath. "Tsuk -"

"Please."

There's a long silence. Kaneki lifts his hand from the bowl. Some of the blood has splashed onto the countertop. A little has gotten on Kaneki's fingers. On the palm of his hand. Kaneki takes a deep breath. They can't waste food. He lifts his fingers to his lips. Licks them and his palm clean. It makes his kakugan throb, a familiar, unpleasant sensation.

A soft noise. High. Kaneki looks back across the counter. Banjou's hand is in Tsukiyama's hair. Threading his fingers over his skull. Crown of the head to the back of his skull. As Banjou repeats the motion, it draws another soft, high noise. It lasts a little longer. Kaneki can see Tsukiyama's hands tightening over his upper arms. His shoulders bunching. Banjou repeats the motion. The noise that Tsukiyama makes is higher, longer. 

Kaneki breathes in.

"It's okay," Banjou murmurs, threading his fingers through Tsukiyama's hair. "It's okay."

It smells like despair.

 

**Summer, 3 Years Ago**

The problem with supermarket, Shuu has always privately thought, is they're so full of so many things that if you don't go into them with a lot of familiarity, it's easy to get overwhelmed and lost. The logical, well-educated part of Shuu knows this is actually a marketing strategy. The currently off-kilter and dangerously close to being emotional part of Shuu doesn't appreciate his logic.

Cardamom and gin. Gin and cardamom. That's all he needs. Shuu makes his way past the specials and produce, looking up to read the signs over the aisles to find the spices. He reaches the opposite end of the store without seeing a sign for spices. Shuu blinks. He shifts the shopping basket he's holding slightly before looking up again. At the sign over the last aisle.

He's getting so out of whack that the characters are running together.

Shuu blinks. Looks down hastily and pretends to look at his phone. The familiar time image of the time (18:38), his lock screen wallpaper (lilies of the valley), and the unlock swipe key blink up at him. He swipes at it blindly, just to make it look like he's doing something. He left his messenger open with Chie's conversation. The characters on the screen start to blur together. Shuu taps his home key, heart hammering in his ears.

 _Calmato_ , he thinks, half-hysterical.

He opens his email. Same as before. There's only been one since he checked at Anteiku, and that was a social media summary that he'd automatically deleted. The words all blur on the screen. Shuu swallows. It makes him cough a little. His throat hurts. 

This isn't working. Shuu puts his phone back in his pocket. He turns around and walks back across the grocery store. Cardamom and gin. Gin and cardamom. He technically isn't of legal age to buy alcohol. Shuu said he would do this. Chie will show him how to bake something. If he can just calm down enough to read the aisle signs -

Maybe talking to someone. Maybe it'll be like Yoshimura, and it'll help for him to find enough of his balance to hold an impersonal, polite conversation. Shuu sucks in a breath, looking around produce. He's almost back at the front of the store. He's probably walked by at least two or three other sales people who all would be entirely able to help him. Well, that's just fine; it's not like Yoshimura, who can see through Shuu and always has been able to, is here. If Yoshimura was here, he would be entirely aware that Shuu is about a second from flipping his -

There's a young man stocking strawberries. Shuu pauses, hand drifting to his pocket again for his phone. LIke some sort of security blanket. Shuu forces himself to take a step forward. To approach. He isn't sure, but the stocker looks younger than Shuu. Can't be sure, though; could just be a babyface. He's definitely shorter. Very unassuming in form. Very black hair. He seems soft and almost dull. Perfect.

"Sorry," Shuu says, and it's so easy to grasp that politeness he's been expected to produce since birth, "but do you work here?"

The stocker looks up. Does a double-take that makes him fumble the packet of strawberries he'd been scanning. Shuu has to fight the urge not to react. Smile. Be pleasant. Shuu is totally normal. He's totally not a ghoul. He's totally not freaking out.

"Uh," the stocker says, very eloquently; he recovers, still fumbling the packet. "Oh! Yes! Yes, I do. Sorry, sorry--how can I help you?"

The reaction is rather humourous. It helps to ease a little bit of Shuu. Helps to ground him a bit. It makes his smile come a bit more naturally. This has the effect of causing the stocker to turn bright red. Almost exactly the same colour as the strawberries.

"I'm looking for -"

And Shuu realises belatedly that his brain is blank. Shit. What is he looking for? What is he doing? Shuu looks down at his phone, shifting his basket onto his arm. Shit. _Shit._ He thumbs through the lock screen and opens his messages. The words swim. Shuu will not scream. He taps Chie's message, enlarging it. It doesn't help. 

Think, Shuu screams internally at himself. _Think_ -

"Cardamom," and it's like he's gargling salt but it gets him through, "and gin."

Gin. Damn it. Shuu looks up to see the stocker smiling, nervous but honest. He hasn't figured out that Shuu isn't legal. There are small blessing. Shuu is such -

"Cardamom should be with the other spices," the stocker says, which is obvious. "Are you making cocktails?"

Shuu forces his smile. Look enthusiastic. Don't let them see how much you hate being in the spotlight, Shuu, this is your life. This is expected. This is -

"No," he says, and the enthusiasm is so forced that Shuu wants to punch himself, "it's for baking. Thank you -" and he glances over Kaneki's chest for his nametag because he has to be polite even though reading is apparently the most difficult thing right now, "Kaneki-san."

Kaneki shakes his head, his smile easier. Shuu has apparently read his name correctly. There are small miracles. 

"It's no trouble. Let me know if you need anything else."

Shuu nods. Turns away. He moves back down the aisles. Cardamom and gin. Gin and cardamom. Shuu reaches the end of the aisles again. He still can't read the signs. He holds his phone in his hand, looking at the frozen food section blindly.

He can't do this.

Shuu takes a deep breath. Looks down at his phone. It's still open to Chie's messages. Shuu breathes out. Types back.

_Sorry, I have to cancel. Another time?_

He waits a long minute. No text back. Shuu takes another deep breath. He locks his phone. Puts it in his pocket. He makes his way back across the store to the elevator down to the parking lot. He returns the shopping basket after hitting the down arrow. As he steps into the elevator, his phone vibrates. It's Chie.

_It's cool! I just had a craving. Something come up?_

In a way, if he was to term whatever is happening to himself as something, _Yes._

There's no response before the elevator arrives in the parking lot. Shuu puts his phone back in his pocket as he steps out. He walks to his car. Unlocks it. Sits down. He mechanically plugs his phone into the car adapter. Starts up his engine. Maybe he'll listen to the radio. Not the news, but classical music. That should keep him -

His phone pings. Shuu pauses a long moment before picking it up. It's his father.

_Come home now_

It's very lucky that Shuu was still parked. He might have crashed if he wasn't. His hands shake as swipes. Texts back.

_OK_

He sets down his phone. Brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He's shaking. It's rush hour. It's okay if he takes a minute for himself. To get himself back under control. Shuu shuts his eyes. Shh, he thinks, shh. He leans forward, hugging into himself. Rests his head against the steering wheel. Shh. Shh.

Shuu shivers.

It's cold.

 

(Aside from how he became briefly hysterical in a Daiei parking lot, Tsukiyama Shuu forgot everything about that day for the next two years.)

 

Tsukiyama's room in the house is strangely impersonal. There's a lot of books, magazines, and clothes, and he's the only one who has a laptop that he uses regularly. His bed is situated against the far wall, the foot pushed up against the adjacent wall. The head is directly opposite the door. He keeps his curtains shut almost without variation, which Kaneki had thought was strange. Maybe it isn't.

The reason that both Kaneki and Banjou have invaded Tsukiyama's sole private space in the hosue is that wine's kicked in a bit more and Tsukiyama is having trouble keeping his feet. In truth, only Banjou really needs to help him into the room as Tsukiyama is too tall for Kaneki to be much help for. If they were really just helping him into bed, all Banjou would have to do is set him down, make sure he's lying on his side, and leave. 

Instead, Kaneki is sitting in Tsukiyama's desk chair. Banjou is sitting on the side of Tsukiyama's bed. Tsukiyama himself is curled up on himself, the comforter pulled tightly around him. Kaneki doesn't know how Tsukiyama can be cold. Even with the air conditioning on, it's warm in the house. Banjou is still stroking Tsukiyama's hair. It seems to be the only thing keeping Tsukiyama calm.

"Do you want anything?" Banjou asks as he brushes the back of his nails very softly over the shell of Tsukiyama's right ear.

A very tiny, negative noise. Tsukiyama has his pillow between the comforter and has burrowed his face into it. It's making Kaneki a little nervous. He's had enough thoughts about Tsukiyama drowning. He doesn't want to think of him suffocating. Kaneki takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. If he becomes agitated, he'll have to leave, and Kaneki is done with not being there when people need help.

Kaneki licks his lips. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Another tiny, negative noise. Banjou catches Kaneki's eye. His gaze is tight and worried but approving. It apparently that was the right sort of thing for Kaneki to ask. Kaneki wonders if he ever appreciated Banjou as much as he does right now.

They stay like this for a long time. Kaneki breathes out. Looks up at the ceiling. They haven't turned on the light there, just Tsukiyama's desk lamp. It occurs to Kaneki that they've never done anything like this. They all sit together in the living room and the kitchen, but usually their rooms are theirs. Private spaces that are only transgressed with an invitation. 

Kaneki looks over the desk, laptop, lamp, books. The wires for the laptop and phone charges. Pens and mechanical pencils in a small holder next to the lamp. A little reporter notebook open next to the laptop that's got a couple of reminders written in it. Tsukiyama intends to message Kanae about an unspecified pattern and to pick up an August issue of Italian _Vogue_. It makes Kaneki stare a little. The list is so mundane.

There's a shifting.

Kaneki looks back. Banjou has sat back. Slowly, Tsukiyama shifts. Sits up. He holds onto his comforter and pillow, hugging the latter to his chest. His right hand's grip on the pillow is so tight that Kaneki can see the fabric of the pillowcase tearing. Tsukiyama's hair is in disarray. It still has product in it. Clumps stick up at all angles.

Tsukiyama clears his throat. Sniffs. He reaches up and starts to rub his eyes before he realises he's wearing concealer still. He hasn't cried, but it's smudged now. Tsukiyama stares at his hand. Kaneki would have expected him to look annoyed or forlorn. He just stares for a long moment before sighing. 

"Your question," he says, and Kaneki isn't sure if he's slurring because he's drunk or because he's tired; it's probably both. "About food."

Kaneki grimaces. "You don't -"

"No," Tsukyama says, and he tucks his hand back into the pillow, gripping it. "Is right."

Kaneki's mind stutters. "What?"

Tsukiyama looks across the room. He stares at his bedroom door like he stared at the abstract painting. Next to him, Banjou looks down at his hands. Palms up between his legs.

"Can't eat home," and it's very soft, lips barely moving. "Don't know where meat comes from. Could be anything. Can't trust anyone to tell me." 

Anything. Tsukiyama cooks. Provides. Even for Kaneki. Tsukiyama doesn't find ghouls appetising. He does his best to make the meals appealing. Palatable. Kaneki weighs his chances before he gambles again. He hopes Tsukiyama isn't going to regret this when he sobers up. He hopes he isn't taking advantage of Tsukiyama's docility.

"What about Kanae?"

Tsukiyama stares at the door. "Hunts," he says, and it's an odd combination of pride and sadness. "Since turned thirteen. Adult."

Adult? Thirteen isn't an adult. Hinami is fourteen and she is definitely not an adult. Kaneki opens his mouth, but Banjou looks up. Catches his eye. It's not a warning exactly, but it makes Kaneki pause. Banjou is agreeing with Tsukiyama. Kaneki stares.

"Your family still does a coming of age hunt?"

Tsukiyama's nods. He doesn't look at any of them. He's not looking at anything. He's somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Kaneki clenches his hands. It seems to signal to Banjou that Kaneki isn't about to speak. It allows Banjou to look at Tsukiyama.

"When did you complete yours?"

It makes Tsukiyama blink. His eyes move to Banjou, a faint questioning expression moving over his face. It's something that's very familiar.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's almost his usual, comfortable questioning tone. "Quite a popular story. Was eight."

Eight. Kaneki feels bile attempting to rise up in his throat. Thirteen isn't an adult. Eight -

"No, I'm not really in the loop," and Banjou manages to keep his tone calm although his eyes are wide and alarmed. "It's a lot less common nowadays."

It's a bizarre version of their usual casual conversation. Tsukiyama hums. His eyes drop back to his lap. His eyelids are drooping. Kaneki wants nothing more than to keep asking questions, but he suspects anything he asks now will not be something Tsukiyama will be happy having answered when he's sober. Banjou reaches out, shoving Tsukiyama's left shoulder lightly.

"Hey, if you're tired, go to bed."

"Am in bed," Tsukiyama mutters even as he tips sideways, curling up in his comforter, pillow clutched to his chest.

Banjou shakes his head a little as he stands up. It's Kaneki's cue to get up and out of Tsukiyama's private space as well. Kaneki stand up from the desk chair. Moves to the door. He steps out ahead of Banjou who pauses briefly with his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, if you feel sick, just holler, okay?"

A soft, only semi-conscious noise. Banjou steps out, pulling the door almost completely shut behind him. He lifts his hand from the doorknob. Together, Kaneki and Banjou return to the kitchen. Banjou grabs some paper towels. Kaneki moves to the sink to start washing up. Kaneki picks up the dishwashing soap. Pours some onto the sponge. Behind him, Banjou puts a clump of paper towels in the trash. Kaneki picks up the spoon. Starts washing.

In the living room windows, the sun is starting to rise.


	7. Washing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a cycle. It's a circle.

_This is a dream_

"Hey," Hide says. "Why so glum?"

Kaneki looks down. Over the play set. Hide stands in the sand at the bottom. He seems very far away. Hide smiles. Waves.

"Come down and play!"

_This is a dream_

Tsukiyama and Kanae are sitting together on the couch in the living room. Kanae has a pen in hand. Tsukiyama has a fashion magazine on his lap. Kanae leans forward, putting X marks over all of the model's faces.

"We could just carve their eyes out," Tsukiyama says, very reasonable.

_This is a dream_

Rize cups Kaneki's cheeks.

"Aw, look at you," she coos. "You're growing up!"

She morphs into his mother. The hold on Kaneki's cheeks increases in pressure. His mother smiles. 

"Ken," she whispers, and there's more and more pressure, "welcome home."

 

Kaneki wakes up with a scream caught in his throat. He flails about in bed, coughing as he accidentally chokes on a mouthful of spit. He gropes around to his bedside table, grabbing the half-empty glass of water there. He gulps it, coughing again when he's done to clear his throat. He stands for a long moment, looking down into the empty cup. Breathing in. Breathing out. He can see his clock on the bedside table. It's ten past nine in the morning.

Hinami is awake and is just taking a container of what looks like stock from the refrigerator for breakfast. She observes Kaneki for a long moment, her expression a little pinched. Hinami has the best hearing in the house. She breathes in. Smiles. A warm, welcoming gesture.

"Good morning, Kaneki-niisan," she says, setting the container down next to the stove. "Do you want any breakfast?"

Kaneki shakes his head, trying his best to smile back as he moves to place his dirty glass in the sink. "No, I'm alright. I'll make coffee."

She nods. Accept it. She turns her attention back to the task of retrieving a small pot to heat up the broth. A few months ago, she would have just put the container into the microwave. Since Tsukiyama told her that it tastes better if reheated on the stove so that scum can be skimmed off again, she's done it this way. Kaneki doesn't know if it really makes a difference, but the advice is something Hinami obviously treasures.

Kaneki pulls out the main tin of coffee beans as Hinami turns on the stove. "Do you want any coffee?"

She shakes her head as she adjusts the pot handle. "But you should make a full pot. Banjou-san and everyone will need coffee, too."

Kaneki unscrews the tin's lid with probably far too much attention. Hinami must have overheard at least some of what happened last night then. Kaneki concentrates on measuring the beans as Hinami uncovers the stock and pours about half into the pot. More than she herself usually has when she has breakfast in the morning. She definitely knows what happened. Kaneki puts the beans in the grinder.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the savoury scent of the stock. A few months ago, Kaneki had found this nauseating. Now, it's almost comforting. The stock is only faintly coloured and very clear, and Kaneki can fool himself into thinking it's just pale beef stock or something similar. The coffee drips as Hinami stirs. Left hand on the pot's handle. Right holding the ladle. She's grown since they moved in. She no longer has to stand on her toes.

"The kimono Tsukiyama-san bought me yesterday," she says, setting the ladle down beside the stove and opening a drawer for a skimmer. "Which one should I wear to the festival?"

Kaneki blinks. He honestly has no idea. All three are very beautiful. Hinami glances up at him, a small smile on her lips. She knows she's caught him out. Kaneki smiles back, sheepish. Hinami smiles a little wider before something in her eyes turns. Saddens.

"Which one," she asks, very gently, "do you think my mother would have liked?"

Oh. Kaneki feels his own smile slip away. He swallows. Leans with his back against the side of the counter. He's the only one in the house that remembers Hinami's mother. He hadn't even known her very well. Just seen her, really, and known she loved Hinami more than anything else in the world. More than life itself.

"Maybe the blue one?"

Hinami's smile quirks a little. She clearly is just about to laugh at him, but she turns her line of sight back to the pot, which has just begun to boil. She sets about chasing the tiny bits of scum that come off the top. It makes Kaneki think of trying to catch goldfish with paper ladles. They should do that when they go to Obon.

"Tsukiyama-san seemed to really like that one, too," she says, and that really is the only reason that Kaneki remembered that kimono in particular. "The embroidery is very fine."

That's putting it lightly. Kaneki has tried to wipe the memory of how much just the kimono must have cost, let alone the components and accessories. None of the clothing that was brought to them had tags and only came out of their original plastic packaging because there were no duplicates. Kaneki thinks of the garment bag hanging in his closet. He's never bought anything that came with its own garment bag.

The coffeemaker sputters. It's done. Kaneki turns to it, setting about a mug and pouring it full for himself. Hinami sets the skimmer into a bowl of water and turns off the stove. She sets about taking out two bowls and two spoons. Kaneki holds his coffee, letting it rest a moment before starting.

"Who's that for?"

Hinami ladles out a portion of the stock into the right bowl. "Tsukiyama-san," she says, setting the bowl down and picking up the other to repeat the process with the rest of the reheated stock. "He's not feeling well."

Kaneki's immediate instinct is to ask her how she knows. Kaneki doesn't go with it, though, because it's obvious that Hinami is probably just as well informed as Kaneki himself is. She probably knows that Kaneki woke up from a nightmare, too. She puts the bowl down. Puts a spoon in each. 

"Ah," Kaneki says, very intelligently.

Hinami smiles at him as she picks the left bowl up, reaching to grab a napkin from the holder at the end of the counter. "I'll be back in a bit, Kaneki-niisan."

Instinct is to stop her, but obviously Kaneki's instincts are batting zero today. Kaneki brings his coffee to his lips as he watches Hinami exit the kitchen and cross the room and the small hallway to Tsukiyama's bedroom door. It's still slightly open, just how Banjou left it. Hinami lifts her free hand to knock firmly on the doorframe. It prevents her from pushing the door open any further.

"Tsukiyama-san, are you awake? I've brought breakfast."

Kaneki sips his coffee. It's obvious that Tsukiyama is apparently awake because Hinami wouldn't have started any if this if he was still asleep. It makes Kaneki wonder how Hinami knows. What did she hear? What does she know that Kaneki doesn't? How much does Kaneki not know of what goes on in their home?

Something must signal to Hinami that Tsukiyama is awake because she pushes open the door with her foot. Kaneki manages to see her expression turn somewhat more serious before she enters and shuts the door behind her. 

Kaneki stands in the kitchen with his coffee. He has two options. He stay here and drink his coffee. Get on with his own morning routine. Or he could move into the living room and sit on the end of the couch that is closest to the hallways and everyone else's bedrooms and eavesdrop. The first is the polite choice but could also be treading into the realm of neglect of both Tsukiyama and Hinami. The second is definitely an invasion of privacy but would allow Kaneki to perhaps get a better understanding of the situation. Kaneki hasn't been completely out of tune, but he's definitely missed a lot in the atmosphere. 

Kaneki wishes Banjou was awake so he could ask him what to do.

But Banjou's door is shut. He must still be asleep. He was still awake when Kaneki went to bed, working at the coffee table on his radio. The coffee table is clear as Kaneki makes his way past it to sit on the couch next to the hallway. Kaneki sets his coffee cup down on the table. Leans back into the couch. This might be the wrong choice. There might not be a right choice.

Kaneki closes his eyes. Concentrates. There's the sound of movement coming from behind Tsukiyama's closed door. The desk chair rolling on the floor.

"Do," and Hinami's voice is level and a little tight, "you want me to turn on the light?"

A brief pause. "No," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds rough; he clears his throat. "Is it dark?"

More sounds of movement. "No," Hinami says, and it's hard to tell if she's lying or not. "Do you want coffee or some water?"

"No," Tsukiyama says, and it's a little softer than before. "Thank you."

There's a clinking noise. The spoon in the bowl. A few footsteps.

"What -" Tsukiyama starts before there's a very noisy sound of drapes being pulled open. "Ah -"

"Wow," Hinami says, very cheerfully, "your windowsill is really dusty."

A long pause. "I don't like the view."

Hinami laughs. It's light and soft. Gentle even. 

"Kaneki-niisan made coffee, if you want it later. I'm going to go eat my breakfast."

"Thank you," Tsukiyama says, and there's something very small about his tone, like he's uncomfortable, pained, or just tired. "This is very kind."

"You're welcome," Hinami says.

Kaneki doesn't have enough time to remove himself from the couch before Hinami exits Tsukiyama's bedroom, pulling the door mostly shut behind her. She catches sight of him on the couch. She doesn't pause as she crosses back to the kitchen for her own bowl. She's not surprised. Kaneki stands up, reaching out to pick up his coffee. He follows her back to the kitchen, joining her at the counter as she pulls out a stool to sit and eat her breakfast.

Kaneki sips his coffee, watching out the side of his eye as Hinami sips stock from her spoon. He remembers Yoshimura, reprimanding Kaneki gently what feels like a long time ago for walking in on Hinami eating. For running scared. Next to him, Hinami's kakugan have appeared, but that's the only part that reminds Kaneki that she is a ghoul. Otherwise, she looks just like anyone else taking a light breakfast.

It makes Kaneki realise that he didn't even notice that Tsukiyama's kakugan were showing the night before. He was eating, and it was human, but Kaneki hadn't been thinking about that. In that moment, just like now, the food was just food. Kaneki hadn't thought of it as human. He hadn't considered it. He had been more concerned that Tsukiyama didn't want to eat. That even Tsukiyama, who feeds them all, would have barriers around food.

Hinami glances at him. Her expression is pensive. Serious. She holds his gaze for a long moment before turning her attention back to her food. Eating, even though Kaneki is still watching her. Everyone can hear everything in their house. She's really grown up a lot, Kaneki thinks, these past seven months.

Kaneki turns his attention back to his coffee. It's not hot anymore. He lifts it to his lips. Sips. Swallows.

It is very quiet.

 

There are a lot of things that Kaneki doesn't understand in this world.

It's not just ghouls. It's humans, too. Kaneki has become harsh person and probably a bad person, but he isn't cruel. He doesn't want to hurt people, although he's learned and even appreciates the necessity. He doesn't want to kill people, but sometimes he has to. He has to eat. He wants to protect the people he cares about. He'll do whatever he has to if it means keeping those precious people safe.

Kaneki, at the heart of it, doesn't understand cruelty. He doesn't understand Yamori. He doesn't understand the investigator who killed Hinami's parents. He doesn't understand Rize, although more and more he wonders if she was really cruel. And, more than anything else, he doesn't understand all the various, deeper, insidious cruelties, the sort of which seem to be Tsukiyama's world. 

What sort of parent brings up a child to kill? This is not a question that Kaneki can ask Tsukiyama. Not because it would offend him but because Tsukiyama wouldn't understand it, not really. He would understand the concept. Tsukiyama would probably argue that it is a necessary skill. For someone like Tsukiyama, it probably is. Tsukiyama's world, his family, his home, probably his entire social network: he is expected to kill. He is expected to maim and dismember. He is to find some level of entertainment in it. Even Kaneki expected it of him. Tsukiyama is an S-rank ghoul with a killer's profile, and he relishes that identity. He's comfortable in it. He's internalised it. 

The internalisation is what disturbs Kaneki. He wasn't disturbed by it before, even though Banjou was. Kaneki had thought it was normal. Ghouls eat humans. Ghouls kill. It was a basic understanding that Kaneki has always had, even after he became what he is and Anteiku. To Kaneki, Anteiku's ghouls were different. They were straddling a fence, sometimes literally, and that made them not better necessarily but different from other ghouls. Tsukiyama was someone who was a ghoul and had always been a ghoul, so that excused his behaviour. His harshness, his violence, his cruelty: all those things Kaneki read in his actions was just Tsukiyama being a ghoul. 

But Tsukiyama isn't cruel. Not naturally. He doesn't take pleasure from hurting others just to hurt them. He does cruel things, and he is harsh and violent, but he always has a purpose. There's a drive, a motivation, a reason. He's not like Yamori. He's not like the investigator who killed Hinami's parents. He's not like Rize. He's not, Kaneki suspects the more he thinks about it, like his family.

Tsukiyama cares. He cares for Kanae. He can't protect Kanae from reality, and he doesn't try to, but he cares for Kanae as much as their circumstances allow. This must be the case because Kanae can read Tsukiyama like a book, and Tsukiyama moves with Kanae as if they're one. It's also clear that Tsukiyama would prioritise Kanae over Kaneki and everyone else, maybe even over some members of his family. Kaneki doesn't begrudge Tsukiyama that. In a lot of ways, that reassures Kaneki. There's a reason that Tsukiyama keeps part of himself from them all. It's not dishonest. It's necessity.

And maybe that makes Tsukiyama selfish, but it's not in a bad way. He's self-serving, and he doesn't do anything without a reason, but he helps Kaneki because he wants to. Whatever Kaneki means to him in the long run is important enough that he lets Kaneki invade his space. He feeds Kaneki things he finds abhorrent. He allows Kaneki to endanger him. Tsukiyama is harsh, and he is violent, and he is selfish, but he is not bad person. 

Tsukiyama is more like Banjou. He's more like the ghouls of Anteiku. He is more like Hinami and Touka and Yoshimura than he is like Yamori or all those other terrifying people that Kaneki himself has become like. Kaneki knows Tsukiyama has done terrible things. He's seen Tsukiyama do truly horrible deeds. He encouraged it. He benefitted from it. He had thought that was what made them similar. Kindred souls.

But now Kaneki understands. He had a choice. Kaneki was human once. In many ways, he still is. He always will be. He has one foot in that world, one foot in this. Tsukiyama is from a world of ghouls, deeper than perhaps anyone Kaneki has yet met and gotten to know. It's a privileged world. There are traditions, trapping, walls. Tsukiyama was born there, where the way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. 

The way is shut.

Kaneki wants to be there when the time comes.

 

There's music. 

Kaneki looks up from his book. To his open bedroom door. The music coming from the hallway where everyone else's bedrooms are. It must be Banjou's room. His radio. The sound quality isn't very good, and there's a lot of static, but it's a pleasant sound. Banjou must be nearly finished with the radio.

_Like a summer rose, it needs the sun and rain_

There's the sound of a door opening. A few footsteps. A light knock against the door.

"Banjou-san? Did you finish your radio?"

Tsukiyama. The radio turns down, although not off. Kaneki wonders if he is doomed to be an eavesdropper. A rubbernecker. A busy body. Nevertheless, he's made his choice. He gets up, moving to stand in the shadow of his own door. He listen as Banjou's door opens.

"Hey, yeah," Banjou says, and he sounds a little incredulous as he continues, "what the hell are you wearing?"

A confused noise. "It's a polo -"

"It's _traffic cone orange_."

Kaneki bites his cheek to stop from laughing. Sometimes Tsukiyama truly looks the son of a fashion empire. Other times, he looks like someone with no sense whatsoever. In the hallway, Kaneki can hear Banjou sigh.

"You look like a kicked puppy," Banjou grumbles before there's the sound of hinges. "Come in, come in..."

Footsteps. Door closing. Kaneki comes out from behind his own door. Hinami looks up at him from her seat on the couch. She's got some of her textbooks out in front of her. Kaneki looks at her for a moment as she looks at him. A smile makes its way across her face, knowing and a little mischievous. She pats the seat next to her on the couch.

"Come help me with my kanji, Kaneki-niisan."

Kaneki has clearly deeply underestimated Hinami. In fact, Kaneki thinks lowly as he crosses the room to join her on the couch, he has probably underestimated everyone. He didn't let himself look to Banjou for guidance. He's grossly misinterpreted Tsukiyama. Even Hinami, who he is supposed to protect, is taking more care of herself and the household than he realised. If this keeps up, Kaneki will do something wrong by Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante. It's a grotesque grand slam.

Kaneki opens his mouth, but Hinami puts a finger up in front of her lips. Shh. She's still smiling, clearly mischievous now. It makes Kaneki smile a little, too. Both of them have the same goal at the moment. Kaneki leans back into the couch. Closes his eyes to concentrate.

"- do with it?" Tsukiyama is asking.

"Probably sell it," Banjou says, and there's bursts of static as someone flips through frequences. "This one's pretty small, so I'll take it to a shop. There's one about thirty minutes walk from here."

There's a burst of very clear sound. Voices. It's in English. Tsukiyama makes a pleased noise. 

"The BBC," he says, and he laughs for a moment, even though Kaneki can hear the report is rather serious. "Oh, I wonder -"

More static before a new station comes on. French. Tsukiyama makes a bright sound, which causes Banjou to laugh, too. Kaneki smiles, folding his hands over his stomach. They're having fun.

" _C'est magnifique_!" Tsukiyama thrills, and there's the sound of bodies jostling, like Banjou and Tsukiyama are hitting each other in play. "If you made a CB or ham like this, you could make forty thousand yen. Double, easy, if you sell them to ghouls."

It makes Banjou snort. "You crazy? This is a niche market."

More jostling. "Exactly," Tsukiyama says, and there's more fiddling with the radio. "Making quality things like this: you should get the proper price. Would you like me to ask around? My family doesn't currently need a new CB or ham, but I'm sure someone we know does."

There's a pause. The radio hits onto another station. It sounds like Russian. Tsukiyama makes another very pleased noise.

"Yeah," Banjou says, and it's a little softer than before. "I would appreciate that. You know these need a license, right?"

"Of course," Tsukiyama says before his tone lowers a little. "I'll need to pass around your name, too. Is that alright?"

Banjou sighs. "Yeah, that's fine. I don't think I've got any bad blood with your sort. Unless you know anyone in the 11th Ward?"

Kaneki's stomach twists. There's a long silence. The radio produces static as probably Tsukiyama fiddles with the frequency. It returns to the French station. 

"My family," Tsukiyama says, still low, "has stock interest in a couple airlines that are based there, and we use Haneda's cargo hub and the freight terminal. We don't go there ourselves anymore, but, yes, I do know people. I promise I won't pass your name down that end."

Kaneki breathes in. Breathes out. That, very circumvent, explains how Tsukiyama stays up to date on some of Aogiri Tree's movements. How he may have known about what was happening at the end of last year and possibly even why Yoshimura asked him specifically to be involved. Tsukiyama would have known a way out if the operation had gone south. He had a business interest to protect. It's very logical. Very reasonable. 

"Thanks," Banjou says, equally low. "What's this station talking about?"

A long pause. Kaneki realises his hands are clasped upon each other so hard that his knuckles hurt. He forces himself to relax. Unclasp his hands.

"It's breaking news: there's been a plane crash on a runway of Charles de Gaulle Airport," Tsukiyama says, and it's a calm, recitative tone. "The plane is currently on fire. Casualties are expected. No one has yet exited the plane -"

There's a shifting. The radio turns off. Tsukiyama stops talking. Kaneki open his eyes. He stares up at the ceiling. Next to him, Hinami is looking at her textbooks. Not seeing them.

Kaneki turns his head to look into the hallway. It's gone completely quiet. He can't hear what Banjou and Tsukiyama are doing. He can only guess that Tsukiyama would be sitting in front of the radio. It sounded like Banjou would be right next to him. It makes Kaneki heart clench. They're so close. 

"Kaneki-niisan," Hinami's voice filters in, drawing Kaneki's attention back to her; she points to the last character on the page, "can you show me how to write this one?"

It's a cue that Kaneki should stop eavesdropping. Kaneki sits up. Takes the mechanical pencil and paper she offers him. In Banjou's room, Kaneki can hear movement but no one comes out.

"I'll write it large first," Kaneki says, trying to concentrate. "Let me know if you want me to do it again."

"Okay," Hinami says, smiling; it doesn't completely reach her eyes. "Thank you, Kaneki-niisan."

Kaneki breathes in. Makes the first stroke. Another.

He tunes out the rest of the world.

 

Kaneki goes for a walk. 

It's just a few blocks down. He goes alone, informing Hinami that he's just going to pick up some washing up liquid and window cleaner from the cornershop. She nods but doesn't ask to come with him. She must understand he needs some time alone. He needs space to think that doesn't exist in their home.

It's just past noon, and the sun is very high. It's hot and very humid, and Kaneki can feel sweat starting up as he crosses the street from the house. There's three kids sitting on the side of the road and eating ice cream. A football is held between the legs of the one in the middle. They stare up at him in the vague suspicious way children have as he walks past before they turn away.

"Weird guy," Kaneki hears one mutter as he get to the end of the block. 

It makes Kaneki sigh a little as he reaches up to wipe sweat off his forehead. Weird is definitely one way to put it. He reaches back to check that he's brought his wallet as he pushes open the door to the shop. It's a thin thing. He has a fake ID, a few cards that don't do anything, and some loose cash. He passes the prepackaged food, the small grocery section, and the magazines to get to the household and bathroom products. He grabs what he came for and turns around before his brain coughs up a thought.

Magazines. Tsukiyama had a note on his desk about _Vogue_. Kaneki doubts this little shop will have an Italian edition, but they should have the Japanese one. Kaneki goes to the rack, looking over it for a moment blindly before he finds the fashion and women's interest magazines. There's a lot of them. Kaneki stares at them for a long moment, suddenly remembering stocking magazines back in Daiei. There aren't nearly as many titles, but there's still so many. _Classy_ , _ViVi_ , _Fruits_ , _Elle_ , _Vogue_ -

Kaneki grabs the _Vogue_. He looks at the cover. It says it's the September issue even though it's August. There's a celebrity who looks vaguely familiar. Kaneki can't remember if he's seen Tsukiyama with this particular issue yet. He might, though, because he goes through these things like water. Kaneki debates for a moment more before putting it back. He grabs a _Fruits_ and _Classy_ because he's more certain that Tsukiyama doesn't have these. There was definitely a _ViVi_ he saw Tsukiyama with a couple days ago.

Kaneki makes his way to the front. The cashier is an elderly man who smiles impishly at Kaneki when he hands the cleaning products and magazines over.

"For your girl?"

Uh. 

Kaneki can feel his face turning bright red. The cashier grins wider as he scans the items, taking Kaneki's embarrassed silence as a valid answer. Kaneki swallows. Fishes out his wallet. The transaction goes smoothly, and Kaneki finds himself outside with a plastic bag of cleaning product and fashion magazines. He's already sweating.

Kaneki might be an idiot. This is the only explanation. Kaneki walks back towards home in a daze. Cleaning products. He just wanted to replenish their stock. Why did he buy fashion magazines he isn't sure Tsukiyama reads? Does Tsukiyama like these titles? Does Tsukiyama even like fashion magazines? It's work for him, but he does seem passionate about it. At the same time, Tsukiyama is passionate about cooking, but food supply obviously stresses him out. It's a cycle. It's a circle.

Kaneki is losing his mind. This is the only explanation. The kids who called him weird are gone, but Kaneki almost wishes they would come back to say it to his face. To make him feel less like he's hallucinating. And Kaneki is intimately familiar with hallucinations. This is not that. This is just Kaneki. 

This is the state that Kaneki is in when he opens the front door. The scent of fresh meat that's just hit the pan wafts. Kaneki shuts the door just as Tsukiyama looks up from his place by the stove. Hinami and Sante are sitting in the kitchen with him. Banjou, Ichimi, and Jiro are watching television. Kaneki stares at it all.

"Welcome home, Kaneki-niisan!" Hinami calls, smiling at him; she has a book in her hands. "Did they have what you needed?"

Kaneki nods. Toes off his shoes and crosses to the kitchen. Tsukiyama has turned his attention back to the pan, cooking chopsticks moving in hand. He's browning meat. He's going to make more blood soup, Kaneki realises. Banjou fed him the last of the previous batch last night. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki says because if he keeps thinking he'll either explode or chicken out, "I picked up cleaning products and a couple magazines. Do you have the September issues of _Fruits_ or _Classy_ yet?"

Tsukiyama, who had looked up at Kaneki with an expression of vaguely polite but distracted inquiry at the sound of his name, stares. He has a piece of meat caught between the chopsticks, halfway in the process of rotating it to brown another side. It hovers a centimeter above the pan as Tsukiyama stares at Kaneki as if he's never seen him before. It would be comical if it didn't hurt so much.

"Ah," Tsukiyama says. 

He blinks. He clearly realises that his reaction has been delayed long enough he can't just pretend not be taken aback. Tsukiyama finishes returning the meat to the pan and sets about turning the other pieces. He glances at Kaneki, expression a bit abashed and more than a little uncertain. 

"Well," he says, buying himself time verbally, "no. I don't. Why?"

Kaneki reaches into the bag. Pulls out the magazines. He shows the covers to Tsukiyama, who has finished turning all of the meat pieces. He turns his full attention to the magazines. His hair isn't styled. He has clips in to keep his fringe out of his eyes. 

_You're adorable_ , Kaneki nearly says before he corrects himself to, "Do you want them?"

Tsukiyama looks up at him. His eyes flicker back and forth, searching Kaneki's expression. Something in the pan makes a popping noise, which draws Tsukiyama's attention back. He makes a displeased noise and hurries to begin turning the meat again. It smells delicious.

"Yes," he says, and there's a strange note to his voice that Kaneki cannot identify. "It's very kind of you."

"I'll put them on the counter," Kaneki says, leaning over to do so. "Excuse me while I put the rest of this away."

He turns. Walks out of the kitchen and across the living room to the half bathroom. There's two full baths in the house, one in Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante's room and another that adjourns the kitchen which everyone else uses. The half-bath is by the basement and is generally where they store everything associated with cleaning the basement. There's quite a lot of cleaning and first aid supplies in there. Kaneki puts the new bottles under the sink.

He returns to the living room. Banjou raises an eyebrow at him from the couch. His expression is not exactly disapproving, but it's suspicious. Kaneki doesn't blame him. Kaneki is suspicious of himself. 

He crosses back into the kitchen. He pulls out one of the stools, sitting down next to Hinami. She keeps her eyes on her book, but that doesn't mean she isn't paying attention. Sante glances between Kaneki and Hinami and then around the room, clearly curious as to what exactly is going on. Kaneki can't help. He only has a vague idea of what he's doing. He's running on instinct. 

"Tsukiyama-san."

Tsukiyama doesn't turn from the stove. He's currently stirring the pot as he adds in blood, so it's not that he's ignoring Kaneki. He has excellent hand-eye coordination, but blood that isn't quite fresh splits easily over heat. It's sort of like poaching an egg, he'd said once, because Hinami had asked. Kaneki has never poached an egg. He watches the muscles in Tsukiyama's back moving underneath his shirt. It really is traffic cone orange.

Tsukiyama sets the measuring jug down. He turns slightly, still stirring as he tilts his head to look at Kaneki. With his hair pinned, Kaneki can see his expression clearly. It's polite and a little bland.

"Sorry," he says, and he smiles, distracted but not unwelcoming. "What is it?"

Kaneki resists the urge to lick his lips. To swallow. It makes his voice come out a little bit odd. Not harsh, exactly, but off.

"I'll do the washing up."

Tsukiyama blinks. Shifts slightly, unconsciously readjusting his centre of gravity. Kaneki can't distinguish whatever is happening with Tsukiyama's scent with the heady smell of the soup, and Tsukiyama's expression doesn't give anything away. It's a little questioning and very polite. Nothing out of the ordinary for him. Tsukiyama is in control.

"You needn't trouble yourself," Tsukiyama says, smile very light. "It'll be a while yet."

Kaneki shrugs. Nonchalant. He's anything but. His heart is pounding in his ears.

"I'd like to help. Besides," and maybe this is pushing it, but it can't be any worse than what Kaneki has already done, "you do a lot already. Washing up is the least I can do."

Tsukiyama blinks. He stares. He's not the only one, if the feeling of eyes on his back is anything for Kaneki to go by. A part of Kaneki wonders how it has come to this. How it is that he has become someone that pleasantries and niceties are surprising from. He used to be someone who was polite and meant it. He used to be someone that made others smile rather than stare and examine and worry. Kaneki -

Tsukiyama looks away. Back to the pot. He doesn't turn his body completely back, and he isn't stirring. His hair is out of his face. Kaneki watches him watch the pot. He's not seeing it.

"That's," and it's soft, tight, and more than a little fragile, "very kind of you."

Kaneki expects Tsukiyama to turn away then. To go back to the soup and stay in it. That is what Kaneki would do, what he used to do when making coffee at Anteiku or stocking shelves at Daiei. But Tsukiyama isn't him. He sets the ladle to the side of the stove by the cooking chopsticks, reaching up to turn the heat down to simmer the soup. He places the lid on the pot. He turns to face Kaneki, right thumb tucking unconsciously under the waist tie of his apron. Tsukiyama smiles. It reaches his eyes.

He's beautiful.

"Thank you." 

Kaneki's mouth is dry. "No problem," he says, a croak.

Tsukiyama breathes out, almost a laugh. He crosses over to the fashion magazines. He turns the issue of _Fruits_ to lay straight in front of him with his left hand, his right resting idly on his hip. Kaneki watches as Tsukiyama flips the magazine open, giving the inside of the cover the same level of attention. The smile he gave Kaneki still lingers on his lips. It makes him look calm. Almost, Kaneki would hazard, content.

Kaneki loves him.

If Kaneki blatantly stares much longer, though, Tsukiyama is going to notice. Kaneki forces himself to look away. To the stove. It makes Kaneki realise, somewhat belatedly, that he put the new bottle of washing up liquid in the bathroom. He shakes his head at himself. Looks down at his hands that he's clasped on the countertop. It allows him to watch Tsukiyama out the corner of his eye. Across the counter, Tsukiyama doesn't notice the motion. He's completely engrossed in the magazine. 

After a long moment, Tsukiyama begins to hum to himself. Something that Kaneki feels like he should recognise. It probably has words. Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama, if he was completely comfortable, would sing. Kaneki wants to hear him sing. Not drunk or distressed, which Kaneki has heard and understands must be very different. Even then, Tsukiyama holds a tune, but it's not at all like how he's humming now. The music is natural and unconscious, not so much a loss of control but a lack of need for it. 

Maybe Tsukiyama developed the habit because he's lonely, just as Kaneki had thought months ago now, but it doesn't have to be like that. Kaneki understands loneliness. He understands at least that much of Tsukiyama. Kaneki has gotten a lot of things wrong. But this:

This is a start.


	8. Seasoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses. Coffee. Paper. Salt.

**Summer, 2 Years Ago**

"Tsukiyama-sama is showing him great favour, overseeing his first hunt."

Kanae swallows. Clenches fists. There's a group of four servants sitting in the rose garden, taking a leisurely coffee. Kanae lingers in the shadow of the entrance. They haven't noticed. Kanae remembers their voices. They've never approved of Kanae nor what they and some others term Kanae's oddities. Calling Kanae -

"He's like his father," Fukushita, whose back is to the door, says. "Far too kind just because the boy is blood."

"Thirteen in any other house would be an early age," Natsuki comments, facing east. "Maybe the boy does show a bit of the Tsukiyama blood."

"Didn't you hear?" Fukushita asks, lowering his voice in false hush-hush. "Tsukiyama-sama and Mirumo-san were arguing about that." 

Soft noises of intrigue and surprise. Kanae's eyes roll. It's not surprising Shuu and Mirumo argued. These days, they argue a lot when Shuu is home, which is rare. Kanae hadn't realised the impetus for the argument this time was Kanae, though. It makes Kanae look at the floor.

"It's the whole reason Tsukiyama-sama is overseeing the hunt," Fukushita says, clearly enjoying the attention of his cohort. "He doesn't think -"

"What don't I think, Fukushita?"

Kanae freezes. So do the others taking coffee in the garden. Shuu has appeared in the entrance that leads out to the rest of the gardens. The doors are propped open since it's summer. Shuu is wearing running gear, and he's sweating. It makes his scent very heavy.

"Kanae," Shuu says, very pleasant, "don't linger in the shadows. You need to get more sun."

All four heads whip around in Kanae's direction. Kanae steps out of the doorway. Holds tight to the watering can that's growing heavy in Kanae's hands. The look in the other servants' eyes are fearful, but only Gigi, who had been the only one Kanae hadn't heard speak at all, looks at all ashamed. Shuu smiles, motioning again for Kanae to come forward. Join Shuu at his side.

"A first hunt is a joyous occasion," Shuu says as Kanae crosses the garden, "but it is also very dangerous. I broke my own ribs. Rather silly of me, but, ah, well, I was young. Kanae will do much better."

Kanae's heard about that. In fact, it's part of what makes the story of Shuu's first hunt so popular. Eight-years-old, completing his first hunt in a ward as volatile as the 4th, only sustaining injury due to a miscalculation in the weight and force of his koukaku kagune. It particularly impresses ghouls that have koukaku kagune. What excellent self-control! What great pain tolerance! How terrifying to be so adept at such a young age!

Kanae looks down at the watering can. "Thank you, Shuu-sama."

An answering murmur of agreement from the servants. Shuu pats Kanae's shoulder. His scent is a heady combination of dominance and warning. Kanae doesn't dare meet his eyes. Shuu is terrifying even to Kanae when he's angry.

"I would like to ask a favour of you, Fukushita," Shuu says, light and bright and eating the very air alive.

"Of," and Fukushita knows it's his head on the chopping block, "course, Tsukiyama-sama."

"I'll be overseeing Kanae's hunt," Shuu says, very reasonable, "but someone needs to be the escort. Would you be willing to do the honour?"

Escorts are the necessary fodder if the hunt goes wrong. If Kanae somehow tips off the CCG, or if there's any other issue, the escort's job is to clean up the mess. Even turn themselves into the CCG if necessary. Shuu's escort was Matsumae, but she didn't need to do anything. As the story goes, Shuu completed the kill, packaged the rest of the body for later pick up, and returned with the kill's head wrapped and neatly prepared. Shuu never tells the story. It's a favourite at parties.

Fukushita swallows audibly. "Of course. It is a great honour."

"Thank you," Shuu says before he taps Kanae's shoulder. "Come, Kanae, leave that for Fukushita to take care of. I want to show you something I found on my run."

Kanae sets down the watering can. Follows after Shuu who has already turned and walked out of the rose garden. Kanae doesn't look back to see if what the reaction is to this. Instead, Kanae inhales while drawing up alongside Shuu. His scent is intense and all over the place. He's still angry. 

"If you prefer," Shuu says as they pass far enough from the rose garden to be out of earshot, "he can disappear."

Kanae looks at Shuu. Shuu's eyes are dark and deep. Kanae swallows. A shake of the head. 

Shuu doesn't blink. "Are you sure?"

Kanae nods. Shuu turns his gaze back in front of them. They're walking around to the front of the mansion. A bead of sweat slips from his hairline, down over his right cheek.

"That's very generous of you," Shuu says.

It's a strange tone. He never used to speak like that. Pensive and distant and more than a little dull. Kanae doesn't like it. Kanae doesn't like it for the same reason Kanae doesn't like Shuu's increasing penchant for arguing with Mirumo.

Shuu never used to argue with Mirumo. Of course, Shuu had had spats with Mirumo in the past, but they had been the immature and small things that children will have with their parents. Sometime last year, though, Shuu and Mirumo had an argument. Kanae doesn't know what it was about, but there was a broken wine glass and Mirumo's desk had been flipped before Matsumae had intervened. Since then, Shuu spends more time away, ostensibly at university. Mirumo doesn't comment either way, but Kanae can tell something is going on. 

Shuu is different these days. It's hard to put a finger on, but he's moodier. Kanae had thought that Shuu had skipped those weird teenage moods, but maybe he's experiencing them now. Some of the staff seem to think this is the case, that Shuu's increasing time away is a kind of soft rebellion since he's remained just as helpful and business-minded in every other way. Shuu is still charming and effusive and a little bit odd, but it's no more than he always has been. He is still beloved and trusted by the entire staff. The general opinion is that whatever is wrong will work itself out in time. After all, Shuu has excellent self-control. No one has needed to worry about him for years.

"Ah," Shuu says, stopping before a bird fountain and a bench in front of the west wing. "I think this is good. Come. Sit."

Shuu sits on the left side of the bench. Kanae sits down on the right. There's no birds in the fountain, which is just as well. Their appearance would have scared them away. Shuu still radiates the scent of a predator. Even Kanae has to work to not shy away. Shuu takes a deep breathe through his nose. Kanae can feel the way Shuu reigns himself in. When Kanae breathes in again, Shuu's scent is still strong, but it's controlled. Banked. Almost innocuous.

"I fully believe," Shuu says, flat and unadorned, "that you have the ability to complete your hunt."

Kanae looks up. Shuu is looking at the fountain. Kanae can't imagine what he's seeing. There are no birds. It's not even full of water.

"You are Tsukiyama blood," Shuu says, and Kanae looks down; both of them have their hands folded in their laps. "And you are von Rosewald. These are the things you carry and that you must carry forward. I know you understand the importance. That is why I know you will succeed."

Shuu looks over. His eyes are dark, but they're focused. Kanae stares. In this moment, Shuu is looking at Kanae and Kanae only. There is no house, no garden, no Mirumo or Fukushita or even a bird. It's just them.

"That is why I want to oversee your hunt," Shuu says, and he smiles, the smile that Kanae has never seen offered to anyone else. "I know you will be beautiful."

 

It's Wednesday. The weather forecast says it will be very sunny, very humid, very hot. Drink lots of water and stay out of the sun. Take public transport if you can. Save the air.

In their home, it's restock day. Usually, this means that Tsukiyama wakes up early and makes himself a cup of coffee before heading out. It's the same today. Kaneki wakes up from fitful sleep to the sound of Tsukiyama puttering around in the kitchen. Kaneki looks at his bedside clock. It's just past four in the morning. 

Kaneki sits up. He has a slight headache. He rubs his eyes, licking dry lips. Maybe he's dehydrated. In the kitchen, Tsukiyama coughs. Muffled. He must have his hand over his mouth. They've had the air conditioning on almost constantly. Even though it's humid outside, it's quite dry inside. 

Kaneki gets out of bed. The glass of water he took to bed is empty. In the kitchen, Tsukiyama coughs again, followed by a soft, irritated sigh. Kaneki rubs his eyes before picking up his glass and turning to head to the kitchen.

Tsukiyama looks to Kaneki as soon as he opens his bedroom door. Kaneki meets his eyes briefly before crossing over, glass in hand. Tsukiyama is standing in front of the coffeemaker, which is in the process of making a full pot. His hair is pinned out of his face. He looks tired.

"Oh, sorry," he says as Kaneki enters the kitchen. "Did I wake you?"

Kaneki shakes his head. Opens his mouth. 

"No," he says, and his throat is so dry it comes out like he's been gargling sand. "Thirsty."

Tsukiyama smiles a little. Kaneki returns it as he makes his way around Tsukiyama to the sink. Kaneki fills his glass with water. Gulps it. The water isn't particularly cold, but that can't be helped in the summer. It's clean. Kaneki sighs. Licks his lips. Next to him, Tsukiyama reaches up and rubs his eyes before reaching up and scratching along the top to the right side of his head. He breathes out, blinking slowly. The coffeemaker sputters, signalling the pot is ready. Tsukiyama sighs again before reaching up to open the cabinet and grab a cup. It's one of the heavy ceramic ones that are made for cappuccinos. It strikes Kaneki that Tsukiyama has never had a cappuccino.

Kaneki takes another sip of his water. Tsukiyama pours himself coffee. It's very dark and smells very strong. He lifts it to his lips, sipping it even at boiling. If it bothers him, he doesn't show it. Kaneki finishes his water. Turns to put the glass down in the sink. He takes a deep breath.

"Tsukiyama-san."

A soft noise. Kaneki turns. Tsukiyama is watching him. His eyes are calm, focused on Kaneki. They're standing close enough in the kitchen that Kaneki can see the shadows under Tsukiyama's eyes that he usually covers up. Kaneki has the same shadows, although they're deeper. On Kaneki, they make his eyes seem wider and sunken. On Tsukiyama, they highlight the narrower, almond shape of his eyes.

"I'd," and Kaneki knows that he doesn't sound half as sure as he would like to, but it cannot be helped, "like to come with you today."

Tsukiyama blinks. He looks away. Back into his cup. He lifts it to his lips and takes two long sips. Licks his lips unconsciously when he finishes. He has a high heat tolerance. 

"I thought," and his voice is uninflected, aimed at the wall behind the coffeemaker, "you didn't want to know where I got food."

Kaneki breathes in. Tsukiyama smells like coffee, soap, and water. His clothes have the faint scent of detergent. Underneath all of that, though, there's the very faint scent of roses. It is a difficult thing to breathe out.

"I can't pretend I'll be of much help," Kaneki says, gut twisting in a hundred different directions. "But maybe this way you'll be able to come back and sleep here tonight."

That makes Tsukiyama look at him. Eyes wide. Openly surprised. Kaneki doesn't try to smile. It'll look fake. It would be fake. He thinks, somewhat inanely, of going to pick up suicides with Yomo. Of falling down the cliff. Kaneki is fairly sure that Tsukiyama does not pick up suicides at the bottom of roads. 

Tsukiyama blinks. A darkness blooms in his eyes. It's as if his kakugan are showing, except they're not. They might as well be for the predatory power that he holds.

"There are two rules."

Kaneki resists the urge to swallow. To look away. He makes himself hold Tsukiyama's gaze as he nods. His acceptance. An acquiescence. Unbidden, Kanae's words swim inside of Kaneki's ear. Take responsibility.

"One," Tsukiyama says, and his diction is exact, heavy, and harsh, "you do not question my decisions. Two, you are an observer and will not interfere."

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama stares at him. Assessing Kaneki's understanding. His honesty. Kaneki doesn't dare blink. Breathe. After a long moment, Tsukiyama inclines his head. He looks back down into his coffee. Lifts it to his lips and sips it. Kaneki breathes out. He turns to the cabinet and takes out a mug. He reaches behind Tsukiyama for the pot and pours himself a cup of coffee. He keeps his gaze down into the liquid, not daring to look up at Tsukiyama just yet. It could too easily be interpreted as a challenge.

If Kaneki is going to do with with Tsukiyama, he cannot risk challenging him. Tsukiyama is the expert in this area, and Kaneki has no right to intrude. That Tsukiyama is allowing him to come, breaching their old agreement that Kaneki would not be involved in procuring this side of the food stock, it is enough. 

"We leave," Tsukiyama says, which allows Kaneki to look back at him, "in half an hour. Don't forget your wallet."

He leans around Kaneki to set his cup in the sink. Kaneki inhales. He knows Tsukiyama must know he's doing it. Scenting him. Roses, soap, coffee. Tsukiyama doesn't react. He straightens back up and passes around Kaneki to go back to his room. To finish getting ready. Kaneki breathes out. Lifts his coffee to his lips as he watches Tsukiyama cross the living room. Close the bedroom door.

He heads to his own room, coffee in hand, to get his wallet.

 

**Summer, 2 Years Ago**

It is arranged that Kanae's first hunt will be in the 4th Ward, an ambitious mirror of Shuu's first. Back when Shuu did his hunt, though, he would have had to worry about not just the CCG but large ghoul gangs like the Clowns. Both of those are still around, but the Clowns and the other gangs that were once active are quieter these days. It is more the CCG's presence in the 4th Ward that Kanae will need to be on the alert for, especially with Kanae's family background. Kanae can deal with this. 

Even so, the 4th Ward as the setting still provokes an argument between Shuu and Mirumo. It isn't violent, but their arguments, aside from the first one a year ago, never are. There's shouting, but it doesn't last long. Shuu storms out, sometimes with his kagune drawn but not used, and goes running. Mirumo calls up a bottle of wine to drink. 

The staff are tense and withdrawn after these arguments. Kanae spends time alone, up in Kanae's own quarter and watching Shuu outside. He runs after arguments with Mirumo even if the weather isn't good for it, and sometimes he runs for hours until he's gasping and struggling against his body. Matsumae usually goes out to him then, running along side him until he allows himself to slow down. Stop. 

Kanae goes down to the kitchen to prepare a glass of cold water and a glass of chilled fresh blood to take out to Shuu and Matsumae. They're still in the southern gardens when Kanae joins them. Shuu's shirt sticks to him almost completely. He's on his knees, still heaving for air. Matsumae kneels unobtrusively next to him, her hands over her lap. 

"Shuu-sama, Matsumae-san, I've brought refreshments."

Kanae holds out the tray. Matsumae looks up at Kanae. Shuu has his right hand fisted in the cloth over his diaphragm, but he lifts his left up. Towards the water. Matsumae reaches out, touching her middle three fingers to Shuu's wrist to guide it towards the blood. Kanae holds very still as Shuu momentarily wavers. He ultimately chooses the water, taking it from the tray and gulping it greedily. Kanae's teeth sink into the inside of the cheek. Shuu hasn't taken food at home in a long time.

It leaves Matsumae to take the blood. She does, sipping it once politely. Shuu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It's such a common thing to do. Kanae tries very hard not to wince.

"Shit," Shuu says, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead and shutting his eyes. " _Shit_."

Matsumae frowns slightly. "Language."

Shuu breathes out through his teeth in a hiss. "Sorry," he says, but it's wound tight and barely controlled. "I just -"

He opens his eyes. His kakugan are showing. Kanae stiffens as does Matsumae. Shuu doesn't look at them. His gaze is unfocused. His palm is still pressed to his forehead. He doesn't smell particularly angry, but Shuu usually has such good self-control. 

"This," Shuu says, "is fucked -"

"Tsukiyama-sama," Matsumae says, very firmly even though Kanae can smell her fear rolling off her, " _language_."

Shuu grits his teeth. He drops his hand back to his lap. The empty water glass remains in his left, held loosely. His gaze remains unfocused. He's looking somewhere to the right and into the grass. He breathes out through his nose. Forces himself to unclench his jaw.

He stands up. Matsumae does as well. Shuu sets the empty glass back on the tray before motioning for Kanae to pass the tray to Matsumae. Matsumae accepts the tray, balancing it on her left forearm and setting the still full glass of blood on it. Shuu motions to Kanae, already moving away.

"Walk with me."

Kanae glances back at Matsumae, unsure if there should be an apology. She shakes her head, motioning with her free hand that Kanae would go with Shuu. It's very unlike Shuu to act like this. As if he is actually their lord and master. Shuu prefers to treat everyone in the household as family, even if he really shouldn't. Shuu has a kindness to him that's both his greatest quality and utterly detrimental to his station. 

It's the latter piece of knowledge that gives Kanae insight. Someone is watching. Listening. Kanae glances back at the mansion. It takes Kanae a moment, but Mirumo is in one of the library windows. He had a clear view of everything that was happening.

"Kanae," Shuu says as they pass out of Mirumo's vantage point. "I'm sorry you're being used like this."

It draws Kanae up short. They're standing in the gazebo that Kanae has lately seen Yuma and Eliza meeting in when they have free time. The little romance has been the constant gossip of the household servants for the past two months when everyone isn't whispering about Kanae's upcoming hunt. Kanae hasn't commented on either. It's none of Kanae's business what Yuma and Eliza get up to so long as they do their jobs, and it's Kanae's hunt. Let tongues wag as they will.

Shuu sits down on the bench, his back to where they'd come. He pats the space next to him, and Kanae joins him. Shuu looks at Kanae, his hands resting between his legs in a slight slouch. His kakugan are no longer showing.

"I won't see you again until your hunt," Shuu says, and while it doesn't surprise Kanae, it still hurts a bit. "I think that I am making the situation worse."

It's probably true. Mirumo isn't petty and neither is Shuu, but no one in the household is lying to themselves that the rift between the two isn't having effects. Kanae can't read Mirumo well enough to gauge what it's doing to him, but Kanae knows Shuu. Last year, following several arguments over harvesting that Kanae now wishes had been listened in on, Shuu stopped eating at home. Even his favourites, grilled thighs and chilled fresh blood go ignored. 

This year, the source of contention are the circumstances of Kanae's hunt. Mirumo is showing faith that Kanae can complete the hunt under similar conditions to Shuu. It should be a great honour, to be considered so close to the Tsukiyama family. Kanae will never say it, but Kanae doesn't need that show of faith. Kanae only has to look at Shuu to know it's unnecessary. 

Privately, Kanae has also begun to suspect that, even though Shuu smiles winningly when the story is trotted out, Shuu isn't personally proud of his first hunt. Shuu never mentions it unless prompted, and, when he is, he tends to bring up the little things that went wrong. To others, it sounds like Shuu is practicing humility, and it earns admiration and respect. To Kanae, who actually knows Shuu, it's obvious that Shuu doesn't remember his first hunt fondly. He remembers, more than anything else, breaking his ribs. 

On the bench, Kanae watches the way Shuu twines his fingers together, pressing the pads of his fingers between his knuckles. Kanae looks down. Shuu's feet are the same size as Kanae's since Kanae hit a growth spurt at the beginning of the year. Shuu has really small feet.

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, very softly because who knows what eyes and ears are here, "I will make you proud."

Shuu breathes in. Untangles his hands. He touches the pads of his right hand's fingers to Kanae's left cheek. They're callused, and the nails are short. They're warm.

"You will," Shuu says.

Kanae looks up to see Shuu is smiling, just as warm as his touch. His eyes are warm, too, but there's a sadness there. A regret. It makes Shuu look so grown up. It also reveals why Shuu and Mirumo are arguing.

With the successful completion of Kanae's first hunt, Kanae will come of age. Kanae will receive full control of a salary, be able to opt in or out of education, and be allowed to come and go without impediment. Kanae will also be expected to hunt and participate if needed in harvesting. Kanae will have no protections and should not expect any. This is how coming of age is. Because of this, most ghoul families, if they can afford it, don't usually host first hunts until the child is at least sixteen. For Shuu, who came of age at eight, it meant he had no peers. Those of similar social standing were all at least twice his age. It's a well-known fact even though it's never said aloud that Shuu is extraordinarily lonely. It's the only reason that Hori Chie has been tolerated. But now Kanae understands it's not just loneliness.

Slowly, Kanae tilts. Tucks against Shuu's side. His right side. Shuu stiffens momentarily before he sags. Sighs. Wraps his arms around Kanae like it's Kanae that needs comfort. Maybe Kanae does. 

Shuu lost his childhood. Kanae is about to. 

Perhaps Kanae already has. 

 

It's a hospital.

Kaneki's heart thunders in his ears. Tsukiyama leans out of the driver's side window to wave a card in front of an electronic reader. The gate opens. It's the employee parking garage.

"You look alarmed," Tsukiyama says after they're through the gate and he's in the process of parking near to the elevator.

Kaneki feels himself smile. He lets himself laugh a little, trying to dispel the tension in his body.

"I wasn't expecting a hospital."

Tsukiyama turns off the engine, glancing over at Kaneki with slightly furrowed eyebrows as he gets out of the car. "Are you afraid of them?"

Kaneki unbuckles his seatbelt. "No," he says because he isn't. 

Tsukiyama stares at him for a brief moment before he turns, heading around to the trunk. It's his version of a shrug, Kaneki's noticed. Tsukiyama shrugs if he's paying attention to his body language, but he seems to forget to if he has other things on his mind or doesn't feel like he needs to. Kaneki shuts his car door and joins Tsukiyama as he extracts a large Chanel gift bag tied shut with a black and silver ribbon. Tsukiyama spends a moment readjusting the ribbon to make it puff out on the sides.

"She prefers sweets," Tsukiyama explains absentmindedly as he shuts the trunk and turns towards the elevator with the bag on his right arm, "but I didn't have time to make any this week. I hope she like this."

Kaneki follows after. He feels like he's passed into the twilight zone. They get into the elevator. Tsukiyama flashes the card in front of the panel to be allowed to select one of the basement floors. 

"'She'?"

The look Tsukiyama gives Kaneki is blank for a moment before he realises he's done that thing where he skips necessary information in an explanation. "Oh," he says, and he laughs a little, although he doesn't sound particularly amused. "You're going to met Han-sensei."

Han turns out to be an extraordinarily beautiful doctor in charge of the hospital morgue. She smiles warmly at Tsukiyama when he enters her office after knocking, cherry-red lips full and cheeks smooth. Her hips swing lightly as she joins Tsukiyama to trade kisses to each cheek. She's the type of woman that Kaneki would have blindly adored a year ago. The fact she gets to touch Tsukiyama like that, even so platonically, makes Kaneki's blood boil.

"Tsukiyama-kun, you spoil me," she says in response to the gift, which turns out to be a purse, wallet, and pass case set.

"I know you prefer sweets," Tsukiyama says, although he sounds pleased as he watches her examine the pass case.

She laughs, an easy, full thing. "That I do, rather too much," she says, although not terribly rueful. "But I am being rude: who's your friend?"

Tsukiyama turns. He's smiling, the relaxed, real one that Kaneki thinks is one of his most beautiful. It makes Kaneki, even though he's incredibly and illogically jealous, smile back.

"This is Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and since he's using Kaneki's real name, Han must be someone aware of Tsukiyama's true nature. "Kaneki, Han-sensei has been one of my family's doctors since I was five."

That makes Kaneki do a mental double take as he murmurs a polite greeting. Han beams and extends a hand. Kaneki takes it. The handshake is very firm. She doesn't look any older than thirty, but she must be at least forty. Kaneki makes to draw his hand back. Han tightens her hold. Something shifts in her eyes. Her smile. She smells human, but -

"What," she says, leaning closer with wide, focused eyes, "fascinating hair."

The hair on Kaneki's neck is standing up. Tsukiyama laughs, one of his odd ones that he tends to make when things are about to turn bloody or particularly dark in tone. 

"I'm afraid I can't offer you this, Han-sensei. Kaneki-san is an investment, you see."

Han sighs, drawing back and letting Kaneki go. She smiles again, the darkness that seeped through the moment before completely gone. Masked. Kaneki's heart is pounding in his ears. This is the kind of person that Tsukiyama has been seeing since he was five?

"Well, he's a very lovely one," she says, like Kaneki is some sort of commodity and not standing right next to her and Tsukiyama. "What can I do for you today, Tsukiyama-kun?"

Tsukiyama shrugs, a fluid motion that Kaneki now knows is definitely practiced. "The usual, and if you've got anything you need taken off your hands."

She laughs, although now Kaneki can hear the darkness that lurks under it. She pats Tsukiyama's left elbow lightly. It would look reassuring or indulgent if Kaneki didn't understand that atmosphere.

"You're in luck," she says as she passes between Tsukiyama and Kaneki and out her office door. "There was a bit of a fiasco yesterday."

Tsukiyama follows her. Kaneki follows Tsukiyama. They're clearly heading towards the morgue. It smells confusingly of chemicals and human flesh. The first is expected and normal. The second is as well, but it smells delicious. Kaneki fights the urge to throw up.

Tsukiyama makes an inquiring noise as Han unlocks and pushes open the morgue door. "Do tell."

No, don't, Kaneki wants to say, but he agreed not to interfere. The tables are clean, and one towards the back even has cleaning products still set atop it. They move towards the cabinets that line the back wall. Suddenly Kaneki knows exactly what's happening here.

"There were several very big traffic accidents," she says, unlocking four of the cabinets.

She pulls out four refrigerated bodies in varying states of destruction. Kaneki can't resist the instinct to put his hand up in front of his mouth at the sight of how one body is literally in ragged pieces. Han is watching him, an amused look in her eyes. Kaneki forces himself not to glare. He glances up at Tsukiyama. He looks pleasant and placid. He's not feeling anything.

"This is excellent," Tsukiyama says, and he reaches out to pick up one of the hands. "How quickly will you be able to bag these?"

"It'll be ready after lunch," Han says, watching appreciatively as Tsukiyama looks at the surprisingly intact nails. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, no," Tsukiyama says, a bit distantly; Kaneki would inhale to check if Tsukiyama is telegraphing anything scent-wise, but then he might throw up for real. "I'll be at the apartment, so just text me when the delivery is on its way."

Han nods. Her expression shifts slightly, appreciation turning softer. Warmer. Tsukiyama notices. He sets the hand back down, his eyebrows raising slightly in question. Kaneki doesn't dare take his hand away from his mouth.

"Your father's right," Han says, and Kaneki knows immediately from the way Tsukiyama stiffens in surprise that he wasn't meant to hear this. "You are ready."

Tsukiyama's jaw clenches very briefly before he relaxes. A deliberate quashing of his feelings. Kaneki knows now is not the time, but he really does not like Han.

"Perhaps," Tsukiyama says, very bland. "Is there anything else, Han-sensei, or are we going to be sentimental today?"

She shakes her head, expression still soft. "No, no," she murmurs, waving a hand. "You and Kaneki-san should head off. My team will be arriving very soon."

They all exchange pleasantries. Tsukiyama and Han do the dual cheek kiss while Kaneki bites the inside of his cheek to not react. Kaneki follows after Tsukiyama through the hall, back to the elevator up to the car park and Tsukiyama's car. Tsukiyama's expression doesn't change the entire time from the pleasant, placid, and utterly fake setting that Kaneki understands now to be Tsukiyama's default. Neutral. Nothing.

"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki says after they're back in the car and Tsukiyama has started up the engine, "she's a bad person."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything as he backs out of the parking space. He keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror and then on the road, leaning out to flash the card at the gate to exit the car park. Kaneki watches him watch the road.

"Maybe," Tsukiyama says as they turn onto the main road out of the hospital, "but she is very loyal to my family. And -"

He comes to a stop before a red light. His lips twitch slightly. His eyes are focused on the road, but there's a distant air about him. Kaneki wishes he could lean over like Han did. Kiss his cheeks.

"She has always been helpful," Tsukiyama says, far too soft to hide some level of emotional attachment. "To me and to Kanae."

The light turns green.

 

**Summer, 2 Years Ago**

Kanae's first hunt lasts thirty-two hours and seventeen minutes. Kanae breaks three toes, the right knee cap, and the right wrist from a fall off a third story balcony. The blood of the kill makes almost all of Kanae's clothing unsalvageable. There is no neatly wrapped body let alone a head. Fukushita has to pick Kanae up from the sight of the kill because Kanae cannot walk back to the retrieval point unassisted. Fukushita doesn't say anything. Fukushita never hated Kanae; he's just a gossip.

Shuu is at the retrieval point. Kanae will never forget what Shuu looks like. He's wearing his mask and is dressed in a tuxedo. He smiles, small and gentle, and opens his arms. He takes Kanae, despite the blood and gore, and lifts Kanae as one would a small child, cradling Kanae to his chest. Kanae feels Shuu's hand cup the back of the head, allowing Kanae's head to come to rest upon his left shoulder. 

"You did well," Shuu murmurred. "You're so beautiful."

That is what everyone says as Kanae recovers over the next week back at the manor. A well-tracked, beautiful kill. A little messy and very violent but such a good show. Mirumo comes in person to congratulate Kanae as do Matsumae, Mario, and a number of ghoul business associates of the Tsukiyama family. Mattingley, who once did business with Kanae's parents, spends an hour in Kanae's rooms, complimenting Kanae endlessly before Matsumae is able to herd him out.

Shuu comes by every evening and stays until the morning. He sits up at Kanae's desk, reading a book or on his laptop. They don't speak much. They don't need to. The first two days and nights Kanae suffers nightmares that are as clear as waking and the next three days are spent in darkness due to migraines. Kanae cries in the second day of migraines, even though Kanae is now far too old for such behaviour. 

"Shh," Shuu murmurs, and he's so warm as he gathers Kanae close that Kanae cannot help but burrow into his arms and chest. "Shh."

Kanae wonders what it was like for Shuu. Eight-years-old, broken ribs, and probably with far more visitors far too eager to drink in the sight of the Tsukiyama heir come of age. Kanae doesn't know how to ask Shuu about that. It turns out Kanae doesn't have to.

"If they hurt you," Shuu says on the fifth night when the migraines are starting to subside and Kanae is finally able to eat a little without feeling utterly nauseous, "kill them."

Shuu is sitting at the desk. He is looking out the window. Kanae has a view of the rose garden and the greenhouse. Shuu is dressed for the evening, a dressing robe over the bizarre nightshirts he prefers to wear lately. It's summer, and Kanae's rooms aren't the coolest in the old house. Kanae doesn't understand how Shuu can be cold.

"It is your right if they are ghouls," Shuu says, turning his gaze to Kanae, who is lying down in bed. "If they are human, it is more complicated, but I will back you in whatever you decide upon."

Kanae stares. It makes several stories that Kanae has heard suddenly make sense. Shuu has a reputation among some ghouls for being unforgiving, and some human connections of the family treat him with a fearful sort of respect. It hadn't always made sense, especially with the humans. Shuu does tend to be a bit eccentric and sometimes is terribly difficult to follow, but there should be no reason for humans to fear him in a business setting. Apparently, there is. 

Shuu offers Kanae a soft smile. It's sad and a little bitter, but it's real and warm. For Kanae, Shuu has always been infinitely forgiving. Kanae remembers, in the polished, treasured memory that it's become, how Shuu smiled with that rose in his hand. This is that smile.

"I understand."

Kanae's head will always be held high.

 

The apartment they go to while awaiting the delivery of the bodies from the morgue is in the 20th Ward within walking distance of Anteiku and Seinan Gakuin University. It's on the second floor of a very modern, probably very expensive building. It's overflowing with books and magazines. 

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Tsukiyama says, somewhat sheepishly, as he takes his shoes off in the entrance.

Kaneki can't really come up with an non-insulting reaction as he does the same. There are books and magazines in the coat rack, on the floor, on the living room couch and coffee table. They're on the television, overflowing the bookcases, and covering what looks like a stereo system. It's somewhat cleaner in the kitchen, although there are magazines on top of the refrigerator and several books scattered around. _Shows his priorities_ , Rize jeers in the back of Kaneki's head. Tsukiyama hasn't looked at Kaneki once since they entered the apartment.

"Is this the apartment you lived in while attending university?"

Tsukiyama nods, setting his car keys on the kitchen counter. He leans down to pick up two books from the kitchen floor. They're the last two _Baccano!_ light novels. Tsukiyama puts them on the counter before looking to Kaneki, his expression unreadable. 

"Do you want coffee?"

"Sure," Kaneki says, trying to tune out Rize's cackling.

Tsukiyama turns to the cabinet over the coffeemaker. Opens it. There are beans and a grinder plus other coffee implements, but Kaneki can't help but stare. There's more books. Tsukiyama shuts the cabinet after extracting a can of beans and the grinder. He doesn't look at Kaneki. His shoulders are tense. Tsukiyama is embarrassed.

"I -"

"Reminds me of my old apartment," Kaneki blurts out, and it's surprisingly easy to laugh, even though the sound is very self-conscious. "To be honest, yours is probably cleaner."

Kaneki had a lot of food waste. Aside from the worrying amount of disarray that the apartment is in, at least Tsukiyama's mess is just paper. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama measure out beans into the grinder, reaching around the coffeemaker to plug it in. He breathes out, something close to a laugh. His shoulders aren't nearly as tense as they were before.

"You're free to look around. See if there's anything you'd like to borrow."

It's Kaneki's cue to give Tsukiyama some space. Kaneki would prefer to stay near, but he shouldn't. The urge to close the space between them, to shove Tsukiyama into the counter, to cover Tsukiyama and hold him close simmers underneath Rize's ghost. There's something about being in this space, somewhere that Tsukiyama called his own and his alone, that's stirring the despicable part of Kaneki. Even the knowledge that they're waiting for bodies to be delivered isn't calming. Perhaps it's fueling.

Kaneki comes to stand in front of the bookcase. There's a lot of textbooks, presumably for Tsukiyama's university studies on the shelves. Kaneki leans down, picking up a very heavy textbook. _Limited Liability Partnerships: A Japanese to International Perspective_. Kaneki can feel his eyes glazing over already. In the kitchen, the coffee grinder starts up, a familiar scream. Kaneki opens the book up to a random page. Stares at the highlighting and Tsukiyama's familiar, uniform handwriting in the margins. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki says as soon as the coffee grinder stops, "I thought you were studying social welfare?"

A questioning noise. "Yes?"

Kaneki turns a page. Stares the top righthand corner. There's several doodles of spirals framing the page number. 

"You have a lot of law books."

The sound of ceramic on the counter. "My concentration was law."

 _Why_ , Kaneki wants to ask, but as soon as the question forms, the likely answer presents itself. Tsukiyama has a family business he's expected to take over. Tsukiyama is a ghoul with a family that likely depends fairly heavily on him. Of course he would study something like law.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Kanaki looks back to Tsukiyama in the kitchen. He's busy filling the coffeemaker's water dispenser. He finishes the task and puts the lid back on before responding.

"It's very practical."

In other words, no, he didn't. Kaneki watches as Tsukiyama starts the coffeemaker. Reaches up to retrieve two mugs. He's wearing a fairly plain grey shirt. Something about the cut, though, makes it move easily with his body. His shoulders look particularly broad. It showcases every well-defined muscle. Kaneki wants to tear it off him and shove Tsukiyama into a wall -

Kaneki looks back at the book. Turns a page. There's no doodles on these, but Tsukiyama has highlighted an entire paragraph in both yellow and pink. Kaneki stares at it. He understands maybe half of what it's trying to teach.

"I," Kaneki says, closing the book and putting it back on the floor, "envy your motivation."

Tsukiyama snorts but doesn't say anything. Kaneki reaches under a pile of textbooks. There's a French _Vogue_ from back in February and the second tankobon volume of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. The latter has a bookmark with a black cat wearing socks still in at the end of it. Kaneki is starting to feel like he's looking through a porthole into Tsukiyama's brain. 

"Are you a _Harry Potter_ fan?"

This makes Tsukiyama laugh. Full and real. Kaneki looks to him. Tsukiyama is leaning with his elbows on the kitchen counter, watching Kaneki among his books. Behind him, the coffeemaker hisses and drips. It sounds like it might be a bit overused.

"It's a fun series," Tsukiyama says, which means not really, before he points over towards the television. "Could you put it over there? I've run out of room."

Now that Kaneki looks closer, the books on and around the television are all fantasy mixed with a few scattered science fiction. It takes Kaneki a moment to locate the rest of the _Harry Potter_ series, which are in a pile to the left of the television. Kaneki moves over, stepping awkwardly in the small spaces almost exactly the size of Tsukiyama's feet that allow for movement around the apartment.

"This is a fire hazard."

This just makes Tsukiyama laugh. Kaneki smiles a little as he sets the volume on top of the others. There's a pile of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ and a mixed pile of light novels. There's a very beat up copy of Soseki's _Kairo-ko_. Kaneki leans down and picks it up. It's been read so many times that the binding on the spine is cracked in multiple places. 

The scent of coffee wafts. Kaneki glances up. Tsukiyama has come to stand next to him, two coffees in hand. He extends the one in his left hand for Kaneki to take. Kaneki accepts it with his free hand. Tsukiyama glances down at the book. His lips lift, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"I like to reread that," Tsukiyama says, his left hand still extended, "about once a year."

Kaneki hands the book over. Tsukiyama takes it with the sort of familiarity that Kaneki knows intimately from holding his favourite books. For a moment, Tsukiyama looks down at the cover, his thumb idly soothing the rough edges on the cover. Kaneki holds his coffee, the heat warming his hands. Tsukiyama's apartment, despite the summer, is really cold.

"Have you reread it yet this year?"

Tsukiyama looks at him. Kaneki's heart shudders. There's something in Tsukiyama's eyes. He looks like Kaneki has seen himself in the mirror sometimes, especially since Rize and more and more since Yamori. Kaneki swallows.

"No," Tsukiyama says.

He turns, left hand with the book lowering to his side. Right hand frozen halfway, lifting his coffee to his mouth. Kaneki's hands are on his mug. It's growing hot.

"Tsukiyama-san."

He stops. Kaneki steps forward. In the spaces between the books. Tsukiyama is looking down. Past his coffee. Kaneki breathes in. Roses.

"Look at me."

Tsukiyama's eyes were one of the first features that Kaneki noticed about him. They're red, but they're not unpleasant or unnatural. They're almond-shaped with long, thick eyelashes. He looks like a model in the magazines he reads so many of.

"I -"

Kaneki cuts him off. Presses lips against lips. Kaneki has to stand on his toes, precarious in the tiny spaces between the mess. Tsukiyama's lips are cool and soft, a little chapped inside the bow when Kaneki prods with his tongue. Asking permission to enter. Tsukiyama doesn't move. Doesn't give it. Kaneki retracts his tongue. Breathes out. Opens his eyes.

Tsukiyama's eyes are shut. Kaneki stares at up at him, close enough that his exhales continue to kiss Tsukiyama's lips. Chin. Slightly upon his left cheek. 

An age passes. 

Tsukiyama breathes in. Opens his eyes. They're the same unique red as before, but they quickly begin to cloud. Tsukiyama blinks. The clouds become mist. He swallows. Kaneki is still gripping his coffee. His hands are burning.

"Oh," Tsukiyama says, tears escaping his eyes, "I get it now."

He leans forward. Kaneki's cup jostles slightly. Nearly spills. Tsukiyama's lips tremble. Their noses knock. Kaneki doesn't care. He kisses as his hands scream. He breathes.

Roses. Coffee. Paper. Salt. 

Kaneki tastes.

Tsukiyama.


	9. Baking Cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're," Tsukiyama says, and he's slurring like he's drunk, "delicious."

**Summer, 1 Year Ago**

"Kanae."

Kanae looks up from the roses. Tilts the watering can back up. Fukushita is standing in the greenhouse's entrance. He looks and smells uncertain. Kanae frowns.

"What is it?"

Fukushita frowns. Looks back over his shoulder. Kanae and Fukushita have an uneasy relationship. They do not hate each other, but, since Kanae came of age, they usually try to avoid each other. Fukushita spends more time involved in harvesting and has taken a few of the business assignments that go outside of Tokyo. He's aware that, while Kanae may not hold any ill-will, he's lost Shuu's good will forever. Kanae generally leaves Fukushita alone.

Taking a deep breath, Fukushita squares his shoulders. He looks back to Kanae. The discomfitted fear in his eyes gives Kanae an inclination to what it is before Fukushita speaks.

"There's been an argument," Fukushita says, the tension in his body clear in his tone. "We have Mirumo-san under control, but we've lost Tsukiyama-sama."

Something in Kanae's mind unhinges. "Lost."

Fukushita grimances. His hands clench. He looks away, back into the hallway that leads back into the east wing of the house. Kanae, very carefully, puts the watering can down.

"We think he's in the library."

They think. Kanae's fists clench as well.

"Have you informed Matsumae?"

Fukushita's grimace twists. "Yes. She's not able to get in."

Kanae's eyes close. Kanae counts to ten. Resists the urge to scream. Fukushita stands aside for Kanae to head down the hall, back through the rest of the house and to the west wing where the library and the music rooms are. Kanae pauses outside of the double doors to the library. Matsumae is standing there, hands at her sides. She turns her head to look at Kanae. There's a crack in her mask. It makes Kanae's stomach turn.

This is bad.

Matsumae turns away. Back to the doors. She lifts her hand, knocking twice evenly and sharply against the heavy wood.

"Tsukiyama-san," she says, raising her voice because the library is large with high ceilings and Shuu could be anywhere in it. "Kanae and I are here. Could you please let us in?"

Silence. Kanae takes a couple steps forward to join Matsumae in front of the doors. Kanae breathes in. There's no indication that anyone besides them are here, but Shuu is able to control his scent to the point it is incredibly difficult to find him if he doesn't want to be found. Kanae glances back to Matsumae. Her lips are pursed and the corners of her eyes pinched. 

There's a clattering. Kanae looks back at the door. There's a few other noises. Like Shuu is moving furniture around. Or flipping things over. There's a loud thud followed by Shuu yelling. Kanae winces. A long silence. Kanae can smell Matsumae fragmenting, distress and worry seeping through her usually innocuous scent.

Footsteps. Kanae forces the body to relax. Forces down fear and concern and all the other pieces that want to come to the surface. The library's left door creaks open. It's dark inside, and Shuu only opens it wide enough to peer out. It's just Matsumae and Kanae. Shuu's right eye stares at them for a very long moment before he blinks. Steps back and turns away to head back inside. He leaves the door open. It's as much of an invitation as they're going to get.

Matsumae pushes open the door. Kanae follows after her. The library is dark aside from the natural light coming in from the skylight. Shuu must have drawn all of the drapes that he could. The couches and the reading table that occupy the wide entrance have been overturned. That must have been the commotion. Shuu has sat down with his back against one of the shelving units. His knees are drawn up and his hands are in his hair.

"Tsukiyama-san," Matsumae starts.

"I know," Shuu says, looking down at the floor between his legs. "I'm sorry about the mess."

Matsumae falters. Kanae bites the inside of the cheek. That's not what Matsumae was going to comment on. In the past few months, since Mirumo and Shuu started to argue about Mirumo's plans for after Shuu's graduation, Shuu has developed a habit of apologising for things he isn't responsible for. Kanae supposes, to a certain extent, Shuu is responsible for the mess here, but he hasn't broken anything. It won't take any effort to right the couches or the reading table. Besides, Shuu owns everything here. He doesn't need to apologise for what he chooses to do with his own things.

Matsumae steps forward. She kneels down across from Shuu, who looks up at her. His hair is in disarray and his eyes are wide and distressed. He looks suddenly a lot younger than Kanae is used to seeing him. Shuu turned twenty this March, and he generally strives to look his age or older depending on the setting. It's his bearing mostly. Without the self-confidence and usual manicured appearance, Shuu looks even younger than he usually did when he was in high school. For Kanae, who only knew Shuu since then, it's disconcerting. 

Shuu reaches up. Fingers catching on Matsumae's shirtsleeve. He doesn't tug, but his hold is tight on the fabric. Insistent.

"Matsumae," he says and then doesn't continue; he doesn't have words.

Kanae turns away as Matsumae lifts her arms. This isn't something for Kanae to watch. Kanae set about righting the furniture and smoothing the ripples in the carpet. Shuu makes a soft, unhappy noise.

"Shh," Matsumae hums. "You're too old for this, Tsukiyama-san."

It's not a reprimand. It's what Matsumae has to say. Kanae checks around the general area, just to make sure there's nothing else that has been disturbed. Not that Kanae expects to find anything because Shuu doesn't destroy things. Shuu dislikes waste and unnecessary violence. It makes some of the staff comment, rather fondly and with no little relief, that Shuu is a very strange ghoul.

"Sorry," Shuu says, and it's muffled; Kanae turns around to see that Matsumae has taken Shuu into her arms. "Sorry. Sorry -"

"Shh," Matsumae says, resting her hand over the back of Shuu's head and allowing him to bury his face into her right shoulder. "Stop talking."

Shuu makes a weak sound but obeys. Kanae's stomach twists. Matsumae starts humming as Kanae moves to sit down on the floor next to them. She cards her fingers through Shuu's hair. When Kanae was young, Mother and Father used to both do that for Kanae. They taught Kanae life lessons and held Kanae close and hummed until Kanae stopped crying and could gain control over kakugan and kagune. Matsumae is, in so many ways, as good as Shuu's mother. 

"Kanae's fixed the room," Matsumae murmurs, soft and gentle and loving. "Nothing's broken. You need not worry yourself about such trivial things, Tsukiyama-san. That's what we're here for."

It's permission for Kanae to reach out. Kanae places his fingers against the curve of Shuu's left shoulder. Shuu doesn't twitch, which is further permission to rest the full hand against the shoulder. Shuu is strangely cool. It's concerning. Shuu used to radiate heat. Lately, his body temperature seems to run a bit low. It makes Kanae wonder if it's like this because Shuu doesn't eat while in the mansion or on the grounds of the estate or if something else is going on. Shuu will probably evade the question, and it's not Kanae's place to ask in the first place. 

Matsumae taps her fingers against the back of Shuu's neck, over the knobs of his spine. Kanae's hand falls away as Shuu responds. Shuu sits up as Matsumae draws back. Shuu tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling. His hands fold in his lap. Kanae watches his lip part, blowing out a short gust of a sigh.

"Okay," he says, very softly to the ceiling. "I'm okay."

Shuu stands up. Matsumae and Kanae do as well. As he turns to look over the righted couches and reading table, Kanae can see the tear through the back of Shuu's shirt from his kagune. That must have been why he shut himself into the library and barred entrance to everyone else. He lost his temper. Kanae wonders how many bottles of blood wine are going to be needed from the cellar to calm Mirumo down. Matsumae takes a breath next to Kanae. 

"I will get you a change of clothes, Tsukiyama-san. Please wait here."

Shuu nods. Matsumae glances at Kanae, who nods to her. Of course Kanae will stay. It's not something she needs to ask. Matsumae crosses back to the doors and steps out, shutting them again behind her. It leaves Shuu and Kanae alone. Kanae watches Shuu walk over to one of the couches. He sits down, sinking into it until his head comes to rest against the curve of the back. He stares up at the ceiling, blinking very slowly.

"The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew."

Kanae, who had been about to take a step forward, pauses. Shuu doesn't glance over. Eyes on the ceiling. Shuu lifts his right hand, fingers splayed. Reaching up into the dark. It makes Kanae's blood run cold. Shuu continues with his recitation:

    With which he cut a locke of all their heare,  
Which medling with their blood and earth, he threw  
Into the grave, and gan deoutly sweare;  
'Such and such evill God on _Guyon_ reare,  
And worse and worse young Orphane be thy paine,  
If I or thou dew vengeaunce doe forbeare,  
Till guiltie bloud her guerdon doe obtaine:'  
So shedding many teares, they closd the earth againe.

Shuu breathes out. Brings his hand down to cover his eyes. Kanae's hands tremble, stomach twisted so tightly it has become lead. Why that verse from _The Faerie Queene_? Shuu never used to like such tragic verses. He always liked tales of valour and virtue. Some of the servants that served as tutors for Shuu when he was younger used to joke affectionately that Shuu lives with his head in the clouds. Kanae hasn't heard that joke in a very long time.

Matsumae returns. She knocks lightly before entering. To her credit, she doesn't falter when she takes in the scene. She crosses over to Shuu, a shirt and an evening jacket in hand. She must have noticed that Shuu is running cold. Shuu lifts his hand from his eyes. He gazes for a moment at the clothing before standing up. 

" _Ouais..._ "

" _Oui_ ," Matsumae corrects.

It's a way to reestablish normalcy. Kanae steps forward to take the torn shirt as Shuu divests himself. He takes the dress shirt, waving away Matsumae offer to put it on him. Kanae watches him button it, tucking the shirt in before allowing Matsumae to hold the evening jacket and slide it over his arms and up over his shoulders. She smoothes out the tiny wrinkles from the movement as Shuu buttons the front. 

"Kanae," Shuu says, very soft, "if that can be salvaged -"

"You don't have time to worry about that," Matsumae says, which makes Shuu look to her; she reaches up to begin fixing his hair. "There's been an emergency with the Guangdong branch. You have a conference call in the main study in twenty minutes."

Shuu's eyes close. Kanae has the urge to hit Kanae's own forehead against something very solid. Mirumo is absolutely not going to currently be in any condition to take an emergency conference call. Shuu opens his eyes. He looks hopeless and more than a little lost.

"Okay," he says, and it's far too airy, but he's blinking rapidly and turning to the doors. "I need to," and he laughs a little, vaguely hysterical, "wash my face."

"I'll get a basin," Matsumae reassures Shuu before looking to Kanae. "Please go with Tsukiyama-san to the study."

Kanae nods. Reaches out to take Shuu's elbow. Shuu blinks. Looks down at Kanae. He looks like he's about to cry. Kanae squeezes Shuu's elbow. Shuu shuts his eyes. Sucks in a deep, wheezing breath. When he opens his eyes, Shuu is gone. It's a blank slate that stares back. It hurts Kanae's soul.

Shuu shifts. Out of Kanae's grasp. He begins to move away towards the doors. At the same time, Shuu reaches back. He takes Kanae's hand. He nods, seemingly to himself, as Kanae moves with him out of the library. It looks like Shuu is leading Kanae, dragging him as used to be Shuu's habit when he wanted to show Kanae something. Kanae knows better. Shuu cannot be seen being led anywhere. Shuu does not look back. He's not allowed to.

Kanae tightens his hold and follows. 

 

Tsukiyama's bed is very large. It is completely covered in books.

Despite himself, Kaneki laughs. He laughs so hard that he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. His hold on Tsukiyama's elbow remains firm, though. Tsukiyama looks at Kaneki, expression somewhere between sheepish and worried. Sheepish about the books. Worried about Kaneki's mental health. Kaneki doesn't have the heart to tell him that his mental health is likely as much of a lost cause as the books.

"Oh, _oh_ ," Kaneki wheezes, reaching up and slipping his fingers under his eyepatch, pushing it up so he can whip his eyes. "Oh, _shit_ -"

"I did say," Tsukiyama murmurs, tone a bit wobbly but not really upset, "I wasn't expecting anyone."

Kaneki laughs a bit more. Rubs the tears out of his eyes. He feels lighter than he remembers feeling in months. Maybe years. Kaneki looks up. Tsukiyama is looking at him. His cheeks are slightly flushed. Kaneki has only seen that happen when Tsukiyama was drunk or distressed. He's probably distressed right now, but so is Kaneki. Kaneki understands that much.

"Where did you sleep?" Kaneki asks as Tsukiyama begins the process of clearing off the bed.

Tsukiyama glances at him. Kaneki still hasn't let Tsukiyama go, so he's helping to move the books onto the floor with his free hand. Tsukiyama turns back to the task, giving a somewhat battered copy of _Warm Bodies_ far too much attention.

"Wherever," he says, almost grumpily. "It's my apartment."

Kaneki shakes his head. Leans forward to kiss Tsukiyama's cheek. Jaw. Neck. The neck makes Tsukiyama twitch. Not unwelcoming but definitely, from how it's his entire body twitching, not comfortable. Kaneki draws back. Tsukiyama is looking at the bed. A collection of Chekov plays are in his right hand. 

"Tsukiyama-san?"

Tsukiyama pulls away. Kaneki lets go. He watches Tsukiyama put the book on the single free space on the side table. Where he probably would put a glass of water. Kaneki watches the way Tsukiyama trails his fingertips over the cover of the other books on the side table. Two volumes of _Spice and Wolf_ , a stack of Murakami, more Soseki, Spenser's _The Faerie Queene_. 

There's a shifting of both atmosphere and Tsukiyama's body. He turns back towards Kaneki, his hands at his sides. He smiles a little. His head tilts, a playful light in his eyes. It's breathtaking.

"Sorry," Tsukiyama says, and there's a humour to his tone, a welcoming. "May I kiss you?"

Kaneki has lost his mind. Kaneki couldn't be happier. He doesn't know what his face looks like. He doesn't care.

"Yes," Kaneki says, high and rough and so very wanting. "Yes."

Tsukiyama's lips are soft with tiny, chapped places in the middle inside. He must chew his lips. Kaneki has never noticed him doing it, so it must be something that he does when he's alone. Kaneki reaches up, fingers to where Tsukiyama's fringe hangs over his face. Threads his fingers into it. Tsukiyama sighs against Kaneki. Kissing deeper. Relaxing.

Kaneki yanks. It's a tumbling. A fumbling. They crumple sideways onto the bed and the books. Dust rises up. Tsukiyama grunts, surprised by the change of position. Their teeth knock, hard and awkward and somewhat painful. Kaneki hisses. He uses his hold on Tsukiyama's hair pull him back. There's a lot of dust. Kaneki wonders when was the last time that Tsukiyama actually used the bed. Tsukiyama moves with the pull. His kakugan are showing. Kaneki knows that his is as well. 

There's blood on Tsukiyama's lips. Kaneki's bottom lip throbs. Split. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama stare. Watches his tongue emerge. Licking over his lips. Tasting Kaneki. Eating Kaneki. Tsukiyama swallows. He blinks. Kakugan showing. Cheeks flushed. His lips part. Kaneki -

"You're," Tsukiyama says, and he's slurring like he's drunk, "delicious."

It should be alarming. It isn't. It never could be. There's no one that Kaneki has ever wanted more than Tsukiyama. There's no one that Kaneki could want and hope to experience anything half as exquisite with by simply touching. Kaneki wants to hold him, take him, own him. Kaneki wants to devour, savour, relish every scent, every sound, every single piece of Tsukiyama forever and ever.

"I'm," Tsukiyama hisses as they rumble the bedding, bend spines and tear pages from books, "flattered."

Kaneki said all of that aloud. Kaneki should feel ashamed. Kaneki -

He kisses Tsukiyama. Persistent, wanting, desiring. Tsukiyama parts his lips. Kaneki plunders him, tongue and hands and scrambling fingers. Beneath them, paper and bedding rustle and twist. Tsukiyama makes a faint noise, a high little sigh. Kaneki swallows it, hands braced against Tsukiyama's shoulders. Knees framing his hips. 

Kaneki breathes in.

Tsukiyama twitches.

Something stops. Kaneki blinks. Pulls back. Looks. Tsukiyama's gaze is on the ceiling. He looks strange. Almost confused. He blinks. Looks back to Kaneki. HIs kakugan are still showing, but the flush is gone from his cheeks. The passion -

"If we continue like this," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds oddly puzzled, like he isn't sure what is coming out of his mouth, "we won't be in any condition to take the food delivery."

Food. Kaneki doesn't know how Tsukiyama can think at a time like this. Tsukiyama gazes up at him, expression almost questioning. Kaneki feels like he's losing his balance. He can feel his kagune shifting under his skin. Beneath him, Tsukiyama blinks. His eyes don't waver, but he's looking through Kaneki. 

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, so distant.

Kaneki knows he's right. Kaneki can barely think. All those things that have boiled and boiled over, all the scum that has stuck inside of him: Kaneki hordes it all, kagune pushing against the last shreds of Kaneki's will. The only thing holding him back is this oddness, this distance, this lack of passion. Tsukiyama looks bewildered. Disorientated. Lost.

"Yes," Kaneki says, high and rough and strained. "Yes."

He pulls back. Slides off. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama wobble upright. He sits with his legs beneath himself to the side of Kaneki's knees. Kaneki sits up as Tsukiyama puts his hands over his lap. Clasps his fingers over his knuckles. It doesn't quite quell the trembling that's started. Kaneki fists the bedding. Shifts his legs. His pants are uncomfortably tight. His stomach wants to rebel.

"Well," Tsukiyama says, low and a little raw; he laughs, somewhat helplessly, "I didn't intend that."

Tsukiyama smiles. Mouth open. He looks as crazy as Kaneki feels. Tsukiyama is staring ahead at the wall past the foot of the bed. It's that faraway look, the one that he gets sometimes and that Kaneki is coming to associate with distress. Kaneki sucks in a breath. Blows it out. Tries to ignore the roaring in his blood. The thunder in his ears.

They stay like this for a long time. Kaneki gulping air and scrambling for purchase within his own mind. He watches the way Tsukiyama's eyes, kakugan still showing, drift in and out of focus. His mouth remains open, his hands clenched on themselves in his lap. Kaneki's gaze drifts back down. Tsukiyama's lap. Tsukiyama isn't aroused. 

There is a sensation of crashing into a brick wall.

"Tsukiyama-san..."

Tsukiyama looks to him. For a split second, his gaze is only half-focused. Uncomprehending. But then something in Kaneki's face or his tone registers. Tsukiyama blinks. His kakugan darken. Pupils dilate. 

"Ah," Tsukiyama says before he falls silent, unable to say anything.

They stare at each other. Kaneki in his arousal. Tsukiyama without. There has been, Kaneki realises, a fundamental misunderstanding. Kaneki's mind throws up memories. Tsukiyama, enticing ghouls for information. Tsukiyama, wearing oversized sleepshirts that fall forward and expose his neck, shoulder, chest. That ride up and expose his thighs. Banjou telling Tsukiyama that Kaneki wants him. Banjou telling Tsukiyama that Kaneki doesn't know what he's doing. Tsukiyama provides food, education, clothes, shelter. He doesn't ask for anything in return. He thinks life is cheap. That he is cheap. He's lonely. 

Oh, Kaneki think. _Oh_.

"No," Kaneki says, and he can hear how desperate he sounds; Kaneki doesn't care. "No."

Kaneki reaches out. Tsukiyama doesn't flinch back. Kaneki stops, fingers extended just before Tsukiyama's shoulder. Tsukiyama stares at him. Pupils blown. But he smells of nothing. Absolutely nothing. Kaneki thinks, suddenly, inanely, of his father's books. In the trash.

Something inside of Kaneki comes unhinged. Something different breaks.

"I'm sorry," he says, and, for the first time, he means it. "I didn't understand."

Tsukiyama laughs. It's not at Kaneki. It's a high, uneven, warbling noise. He dips his head, clapping his hands up over his mouth. The motion moves his body forward. His shoulder bumps into Kaneki's fingers. He doesn't pull away. He closes his eyes. Dips further forward. Into Kaneki's hand. Folding up. Tsukiyama is silent. He's gone away inside of himself. He leaves Kaneki sitting there in his bed among the mess of books, some of which are tattered and torn from their earlier battle. From Kaneki's hastiness and mistakes. 

There are two choices. Kaneki could go. He could go and leave Tsukiyama here. He could put distance between them and let Tsukiyama have privacy to come back to himself. But that isn't actually a choice. Kaneki can't leave. He never could. And he can't. There's no guarantee that Tsukiyama will come back to himself. There's the food delivery. Tsukiyama cannot eat at home. He needs the food, too.

Kaneki swallows. He shifts his hand. Rests it on Tsukiyama's shoulder. He rubs his thumb in weak, tiny ovals. He wishes Banjou was here. Tsukiyama seems to like having his hair stroked. He does to himself when he's self-soothing. Kaneki doesn't dare. He just pulled Tsukiyama's hair.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kaneki says, and that's true, too. "I'm sorry."

Tsukiyama doesn't say anything, but he shivers. His left hand moves. Reaches up to touch his fingers against Kaneki's right cheek. Kaneki has seen Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante touch each other in a similar fashion. A gesture of reassurance. Kaneki thinks of how Banjou and Tsukiyama have sometimes touched. Their brushes and shoves and strokes. Gestures of comfort. Tsukiyama is trying to comfort him. Even when he's like this. Kaneki really didn't understand anything at all.

Carefully, Kaneki moves his hand from Tsukiyama's shoulder. To his left cheek. He rests the tips of his fingers against the skin, trying to mirror how Tsukiyama's are on Kaneki's own. It makes Tsukiyama breathe out, his eyes scrunching tighter. Kaneki swallows. Tsukiyama's fingers press a little firmer against Kaneki's cheek. 

"No," Tsukiyama says, into the bedding and books, muffled by his right hand. "Don't apologise."

 _I'm not someone you should apologise to._ Kaneki had denied him back then. Kaneki had done him wrong, had treated Tsukiyama as less than a person. As an object. A thing to be desired but an object all the same. Kaneki has done that again, and he has tried to apologise. Tsukiyama doesn't want it. But it's deeper than that. He doesn't believe he deserves it.

Kaneki swallows. He shuts his eyes. 

They're burning.

 

**Summer, 1 Year Ago**

The sun is setting. It's almost eight in the evening. Shuu has been staring out the window of the main study for over an hour. 

Kanae is starting to worry. Shuu hasn't said anything since finishing the conference call, which took a little over two hours, and delegating work to Matsumae, Mario, and Yuma. He typed up a few emails, did something on his cellphone, and then turned to the window. Kanae had thought he was contemplating the situation. Kanae is less and less sure.

"Shuu-sama?"

Shuu breathes in. Shakes himself. It seems to be a great effort to turn away from the window and to Kanae. Shuu smiles. There's something wrong with how he executes the expression.

"Kanae. How may I help you?"

Kanae's skin crawls. Kanae cannot pinpoint what exactly it is, but there's something really off about Shuu. About the situation. The hair on the back of Kanae's neck is standing up.

"What are you looking at?"

Shuu's head tilts. He looks questioning, but something is still missing. 

"The sun is setting," Shuu says, and his smile spreads a little, unnatural. "It's very pretty."

Shuu is speaking, but he isn't saying anything. With that realisation, something in Kanae's head clicks. That's it. That's what's off. Shuu is sitting there, physically present, but there's nothing of him. Just his body.

Kanae steps forward. Comes around the desk to look out the window. Kanae inhales. Old wood. Older paper. Metal from the electronics and window frame. Detergent and starch of clothing. Next to Kanae, Shuu turns his attention back to the window. Kanae barely smell him at all.

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, very carefully, "do you want me to get Matsumae?"

An inhale. Kanae glances at Shuu, who is once more gazing out across the estate's grounds. Out to the sunset. The horizon. Kanae doesn't know how much of it Shuu is actually seeing.

"No," Shuu says, and there's a tired note there, but at least that's something other than the unsettling nothingness. "It's fine. I'm just a bit chilly."

Kanae is roasting. This side of the mansion is the warmest in the late afternoon and early evening. Shuu is wearing an evening jacket. Kanae's heart is beginning to hammer.

"Eliza is making blood soup tonight."

 _Please_ , Kanae thinks even as Shuu shakes his head. Shuu reaches up and rubs his hand over his face. Up through his hair. He messes it up briefly before brushing it back into order. 

"No," Shuu says, and he looks down, hand dropping back to join the other in his lap. "I was intending to head back to my apartment, but it's getting late..."

That realisation seems to stir Shuu. He looks up to Kanae, suddenly himself again. It takes Kanae aback somewhat, how swift the change is.

"How are you?"

Kanae is unprepared. Undefended. Kanae has never had anywhere near Shuu's level of self-control and never will. Even so, it's embarrassing how Kanae can't control the shame that bubbles up. Colouring the cheeks. Kanae looks down. The carpet needs to be vacuumed.

"Oh," Shuu says, very soft. "Are you still having migraines?"

Kanae nods. Shuu is also asking about everything else. All the things they don't have names for and cannot acknowledge. There's a part of Kanae that started to appear more often since coming of age that spends a lot of time screaming. Since Mirumo and Shuu's arguments started to become more frequent again after this past Christmas, that part sometimes leads to Kanae crying. Sometimes there's a reason, sometimes there isn't. Kanae had thought it was because of recurring sleep disturbances and the migraines that Kanae's become prone to, but it's not. 

The look on Shuu's face is pinched. Concerned. Kanae wants to apologise. Shuu shouldn't worry. Shuu has enough to worry about.

"Let me take you to see Han-sensei."

Kanae grimaces. Kanae doesn't need some human's pity.

"She's not that kind of doctor."

Shuu's lips twitch briefly before he reaches up to touch Kanae's left shoulder. "She'll be able to help," he says. "Come with me for a night. I'm sure if I bake cheesecake she'll be happy to make a housecall."

Kanae nods, feeling unhinged. Bake cheesecake. The phrase makes absolutely no sense. Shuu smiles, though, real and very much himself, so Kanae's confusion is worth it.

Kanae completely wants to take back that value judgement two hours later. Shuu's apartment is a complete and utter disaster. Kanae gazes around at the stacks of books all over the floor. The pile of bedding on the couch. Shuu must be sleeping there. What's wrong with his bed? Shuu moves through the mess to the kitchen, grocery bag of cheesecake ingredients in hand. Kanae feels the fine thread of self-control further fragment. 

"Shuu-sama, what -"

"Grab a book and relax," Shuu says, which answers absolutely nothing.

Kanae moves into the living room. When was the last time Shuu cleaned? When was the last time anyone but Shuu saw his living space? Kanae picks through the piles of books, careful not to accidentally step on any of them. Kanae stares for a long moment at the couch, which has a heavy comforter, two pillows and one of the very soft microfiber blankets Shuu prefers on it. Why -

"Han-sensei will be here in about half an hour," Shuu says from the kitchen; Kanae looks up just in time to see him tie a bow in his apron. "If you'd rather watch television, the remote should be under the pillows."

"What -" and Kanae knows it's not proper to ask, but Kanae is starting to feel increasingly distraught, "are you doing?"

Shuu, who had been turning back into the kitchen, pauses. He frowns slightly, eyes moving over Kanae with increasing concern. 

"I'm making cheesecake," he says, and the concern shows clearly in his tone. "Kanae, are you well? You've gone very pale."

No, Kanae is not. Kanae turns very carefully and sits down on the couch. It takes Kanae's weight easily, reflecting how often it's seen use. It's very comfortable. The part of Kanae that screams is very close to the surface. Kanae's eyes squeeze shut. Kanae's heart thunders in the chest and ears.

A soft, careful touch to Kanae's cheek left. Over the brow. Kanae shivers. Opens eyes. Shuu is standing above, a tall glass of blood in hand. It's a very red and smells rich. The scent makes Kanae feel very dizzy. Shuu holds it out as he telegraphs his fingers around to the back of Kanae's head. Supporting. 

"Drink."

The blood is very cold and very fresh. Shuu must have killed whatever this came from within the last twenty-four hours. Kanae clasps the glass, suddenly ravenous. It draws a soft chuckle from Shuu as he lets the glass go, reassured that Kanae won't drop it. Kanae was shaking and hadn't realised. 

"There now," Shuu murmurs, patting lightly the crown of Kanae's head. "I really do need to start the cheesecake."

Kanae manages a noise into the blood. Shuu lifts his hand and moves away. Back through the books to the kitchen. Kanae would turn to watch, but it's taking all of Kanae's self-control not to gulp the blood like some starved animal. It's so good. Cold but so fresh that it's not coagulated or separated. It's so rich it's creamy in texture, the tang of iron balanced out by a sinful level of sweetness. It's not his usual, but Shuu hunts based upon his own needs. Maybe he's currently iron deficient. Kanae might be, too, based upon how wonderful the blood tastes.

Back in the kitchen, Shuu has begun humming. Mercutio's aria from _Roméo et Juliette_. Kanae swallows the last of the blood. Takes a deep breath. Ingesting so much at once at that speed is unusual for Kanae. It leaves Kanae feeling exhilarated and a little dizzy even though the blood isn't fermented. Kanae leans forward, setting the glass down in one of the few clear spaces on the coffee table. 

"Kanae," Shuu says over the sound of an egg being cracked, "do you want more? I've got another liter."

It's tempting. Kanae twists around on the couch. Shuu is in the process of separating another egg. He looks, Kanae thinks with an edge of tipsiness to the inner dialogue, very relaxed. Kanae doesn't remember the last time Shuu looked half this relaxed back at the estate. 

"Is it in the refrigerator?" Kanae asks; Shuu nods, leaning over to throw out the egg shells. "I can help myself."

Shuu smiles, full and warm. It's comes so easily here in his own space. Kanae can't help but smile back.

"Please do," he says, starting on another egg.

Kanae stands up. Picks up the glass from the table. It's careful work to make it back to the kitchen through the books. Kanae stands in the kitchen for a long moment, watching Shuu hook up an electric whisk and begin working on the egg whites. Kanae knows about this sort of thing conceptually, but it's not a very useful skill for someone like Kanae to have. Kanae turns to the refrigerator, setting the glass on the counter before opening the door. About a body's worth of flesh is neatly packaged and stored on the shelves along with three bottles of blood wine on the top shelf. There's a large pitcher of fresh blood on the door. It's still mostly full. Kanae takes it out. Pours another full glass. 

Shuu nods towards dish rack. "Pour me one, too, would you please?"

Something unknots in Kanae's chest. "Of course."

It's comfortable, Kanae thinks, pouring out a glass for Shuu, who is still working on the egg whites. The apartment is a complete mess, but Shuu actually seems to be at ease here. It isn't happy exactly, but Kanae is hard-pressed to say when was the last time Shuu was unequivocally happy. Perhaps years ago now when Shuu still came home regularly in high school. Kanae had been very young then, though, so it's hard to say if Shuu was really happy or if Kanae simply assumed so in the more simple observation of a child.

Kanae ends up sitting on a kitchen stool, watching Shuu make cheesecake. Shuu continues humming more Gounod, occasionally passing between melting white chocolate over a bain marie and prepping the baking round to sip his glass of blood. The two glasses that Kanae has consumed leave Kanae feeling decidedly warm and very mellow. It's not drunkenness. More of a deeply satiated feeling. Kanae isn't used to feeling so nice.

The apartment buzzer goes off just as Shuu gets the cheesecake into the oven. It jars Kanae out of the blood-induced stupor. Shuu goes over to the entranceway to give permission to reception to let Han up. Kanae watches as Shuu straighten up from the buzzer, turning to look back into the apartment. His face unsettles. He seems to have realised just what a mess the place is.

"Ah," Shuu murmurs before shaking his head slightly. 

Kanae doesn't really have anything to offer up on this. Shuu turns back as the door buzzer sounds. Unlocks the door.

"Han-sensei," Shuu says, leaning forward to exchange kisses, "thank you for coming on such short notice."

"You promised cheesecake," Han says, playfully as Shuu steps back; her tone becomes baldly surprised as soon as she notices the state of the apartment. "Tsukiyama-kun, _how_ are you living in this?"

Shuu is quiet for a moment. Kanae can tell without needing to see Shuu's expression that he's becoming self-conscious.

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Shuu mumbles.

"Clearly not," Han says, concern clear in her tone.

Shuu turns and steps through the books back into the kitchen. Han trails after him after she removes her shoes. She smiles at Kanae. She wearing a form-fitting red dress. It looks like she was intending to head out onto the town rather than work tonight. Kanae smiles back, apparently dozily enough that Han notices. She blinks, looking over Kanae before looking to Shuu with a raised eyebrow.

"Have the two of you been drinking?"

"Blood, yes, but fresh," Shuu says, and he's still oddly subdued as he leans back against the oven door. "Kanae's been under a lot of stress, though, so even that might have had an effect."

"Mhm," Han says; she lifts her right hand into Kanae's line of sight. "Please, may I see your kakugan?"

What good manners for a human. Kanae lets the kakugan activate. Han makes a thoughtful noise, tilting her hand in a reaching motion.

"May I examine?"

Really good manners. Kanae nods. Han steps forward, lifting her left hand to touch her fore and middle fingers to the network of capillaries that stand out along Kanae's temples and upper cheeks. Her fingers are cool and only slightly callused. She touches only as much as she has to, carefully mapping the capillaries up into Kanae's hair. It's almost soothing, that light, very polite touch.

Han draws back. She keeps her hands in Kanae's sight. Her brow is slightly furrowed. 

"You can deactivate you kakugan if you wish," she says; Kanae does. "Are you still suffering migraines and light sensitivity?"

Despite everything, Kanae still frowns instinctively. "Occasionally. Why?"

"The capillary network over your temples is swollen on both sides," Han says, her eyebrows drawing further together. "Did it hurt to activate or deactivate your kakugan?"

No. Kanae's head shakes. Han rests her hands on her hips, fingers drumming idly. She looks over to Shuu. Kanae glances over as well. Shuu glances between them, his expression fairly closed. Han sighs.

"Well, I can already tell that neither of you are sleeping regularly," she sighs. 

Shuu's expression turns fairly cross. Kanae isn't surprised, but it's still worrying that Han apparently feels the need to prod Shuu like that. Han looks away, back to Kanae. She smiles, a little strained.

"Knowing you," she says, "you're working too much. Take some extra time off in the next few weeks. Eat more. If you're having trouble sleeping for the same reason Tsukiyama-kun does, it might be worth it to drink fresh blood before sleeping. Drink it even if you're nauseous. It'll help settle your stomach."

Kanae nods as Shuu sighs. "Thank you, Han-sensei," he mutters a mixture of annoyed and grateful.

She nods, her expression momentarily sympathetic towards them both before she claps her hands. Banishing the heavier atmosphere. She smiles, motioning towards the oven. Kanae turns on the stool just in time to see Shuu rubbing his left eye with his fist.

"How much longer for that?"

"I need to turn the heat down in about two minutes," Shuu says, switching to his right eye. "And then it's fifteen minutes, turn the oven off, and let rest within for fifteen more minutes."

Han hums. "Why don't you drop this by me tomorrow?" she says, and it's a tone that Kanae is frankly surprised to hear a human use; it's the swaying cadence that Matsumae and Mario use when they're calming others. "It's getting late and I have a date."

That makes Shuu laugh. He nods and waves the hand that isn't currently playing with his fringe just as the oven beeps a one-minute warning. Shuu turns to it, kneeling down to look through the viewing area at the cheesecake. Han turns, meeting Kanae's gaze for a moment. Her eyes flick briefly towards the rest of the apartment, back to Shuu who isn't paying attention, and then to Kanae. Kanae blinks once. Acknowledging the concern.

"Well," Han says, "I'm off."

"I'll get the cheesecake to you at lunch tomorrow?" Shuu says from in front of the oven.

Han waves a hand, already picking her way back through the books. "Just text me. See you later, Tsukiyama-kun, Kanae."

They murmur polite goodbyes. Normally, Kanae or Shuu should have seen her out, but with Shuu occupied with the cheesecake and Kanae still feeling rather lightheaded, the poor manners can hopefully be excused. At least Han is human. There's more leeway with humans when it comes to oversight in manners. 

"Kanae."

Shuu is adjusting the temperature on the oven. Kanae makes a questioning noise as the front door shuts behind Han.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Shuu asks, turning from the oven again and starting towards the front door to lock it. "I promise the guest room and bath is clean."

"Not yet," Kanae says, although Kanae is starting to feel a little tired. "I will in about an hour, though."

Shuu hums. He makes his way back into the kitchen and around Kanae. He pulls out the stool next to Kanae. Sits down. His hands rest between his thighs. He tilts his head back towards the ceiling.

"I wish -" and Shuu laughs, interrupting himself and dropping his chin back to his chest and shaking his head. "We're too old of this."

Kanae nods. Shuu looks back to the oven. At the cheesecake neither of them can eat. It's bribery. It smells sweet. A form of torture.

They sit there together for a very long time.

 

Tsukiyama's phone pings. Tsukiyama makes a faint noise from where he's curled up against the headboard. Kaneki stares up at the ceiling. They've ended up lying together on the bed. In the dust and the books. Kaneki is lying on his back, two hardcovers poking into his right shoulder and another into his right thigh. Tsukiyama's ceiling is smooth and off-white. It has no personality.

The phone pings again. Tsukiyama makes an unhappy noise but shifts. Responding. Kaneki twists his head around, watching as Tsukiyama fishes the thing out of his pocket and thumb into the message. He's huddled into so tight a foetal position he's nearly a ball. He holds the phone so close to his face that Kaneki is surprised he can read it. 

"Who is it?"

Tsukiyama types a short message back before answering. "Food."

Technically, Tsukiyama isn't wrong. Their food was a who at some point. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama put his phone back into his pocket. He curls up completely again, hands coming up around the back of his neck and gripping. This probably isn't the time to prod at linguistics and semantics. 

"They'll text again when they're here," Tsukiyama says into his knees. "I'll go down."

Kaneki licks his lips. "Do you want me to come?"

The fingers of Tsukiyama's left hand shift. Catching on his hair. Kaneki watches the way he fiddles with the short hair at the back of his neck, catching sections and soothing the pads of his thumb and forefinger over the ends. 

"No," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds notably calmer, more centred. "Wait for me."

Kaneki breathes out. "Yes." 

He will. Kaneki hopes the Tsukiyama understands that. Kaneki is the one that rushes into things, who is a slave to his baser desires. He didn't used to be this kind of person. Greedy, needy, and grasping. He didn't live with blood on his hands and flesh in his thoughts. The person that Tsukiyama first met back in that brief moment in time in Daiei would never have done all these things. That person, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and so, so gentle: maybe Tsukiyama could have loved that Kaneki.

Then again, that pure Kaneki would have been terrified of what Tsukiyama is. A ghoul such as Tsukiyama, with all the qualities that drew Kaneki as he is now to him at first, would have repulsed Kaneki back then. That pure Kaneki had morals and values, had thought regularly of humanity and the idea of a common good. Tsukiyama would have been too much, too domineering and harsh. Kaneki doesn't understand a lot of the intricacies of what it is to be a ghoul, but the person he once was understood even less. That pure Kaneki was pure because he was naïve. Touka, Yoshimura, and even Hinami taught Kaneki that. 

Above him, Tsukiyama groans. Kaneki watches him force himself to detangle. Push himself up. For a long moment, Tsukiyama lets his head hang down between his shoulders, his legs still curled up and his weight resting on his hands and left hip. 

" _D'accord_ ," Tsukiyama sighs, and he swings himself properly upright and climbs off the bed. "Okay."

He stretches as he stands. His shirt has come untucked. The fabric ripples around his shoulders and upper arms. Kaneki makes no secret that he is watching. It would be insulting to to both of them at this point to do so. Tsukiyama drops his arms. He tilts his head from left to right. His neck doesn't pop. Tsukiyama blows out a long sigh, reaching up with his right hand to massage over the vertebrae.

"Kaneki-san."

Kaneki sits up. Tsukiyama shifts. Tucks his shirt back in. Runs his hand down the front to smooth it out. He's looking down. There's a couple of fashion magazines under his feet. A _Mens Nonno_ and a Polish _Viva! Moda_. Tsukiyama's hand drops back to his side. His hair is mussed, fringe falling into his face in half-styled clumps. His eyes move to Kaneki, watching him from beneath his hair and with half-lidded, tired eyes.

"I'm sorry that things are like this."

Kaneki shakes his head. Moves forward on the bed. A couple of books at the foot fall off, making hollow thuds as they join their brethren. Kaneki reaches out, instinctively to grab, but he manages to catch himself before his fingers close. It makes the touch spasm, but Kaneki manages to keep it just his fingers, splayed over Tsukiyama's elbow. Tsukiyama looks down at it for a moment, blinking slowly. It gives Kaneki a moment to choose his words.

"Don't apologise to me," Kaneki says.

Perhaps it's cruel, using Tsukiyama's own words this way. Perhaps this is what Kaneki has become. Tsukiyama looks to him, his eyes flickering over Kaneki's face. Kaneki gazes back, lingering too long on Tsukiyama's lips. He knows what they taste like now. How they feel when they part. The warmth of Tsukiyama's breath. Kaneki wants him so badly it's overwhelming.

Tsukiyama deserves so much better than Kaneki. 

Slowly, Tsukiyama leans down. Kaneki knows he should stop it, but he can't. Not when a kiss is exactly what Kaneki wants. Tsukiyama lips are dry, but he's just as warm and just as sweet as before. Tsukiyama breathes out, and Kaneki steals that breath, lapping it up before Tsukiyama pulls back. But not away. He rests his forehead against Kaneki's, his eyes closed and lips still parted. Kaneki inhales. Roses. Dust. Tsukiyama.

"Alright," Tsukiyama whispers, and he smiles a little, his eyes still shut. "I need to go down. Wait for me."

"Yes," Kaneki says as Tsukiyama straighten up and pulls away. 

He watches Tsukiyama pick his way across the bedroom. How he reaches up and pushes his hair back into something resembling organisation. Kaneki watches the bedroom door even after Tsukiyama has passed out of its view on his way out of the apartment. Only after the front door opens and shuts, the slide of key in the lock, does Kaneki sag. Sigh. Fist the sheets and squeeze his eyes shut.

_I love you_

Kaneki knows now. Knows in the say that has been described in poems and songs for thousands of years. It's something that took root sometime that Kaneki doesn't exactly know. Perhaps it was back when Kaneki was sixteen, or maybe it was back in Anteiku, or maybe even with that laugh that Tsukiyama made when Kaneki observed he was a ghoul back in that field just after escaping Aogiri Tree. It was nourished with food and companionship, chatter and laughter, under a roof and in the hands of those who know and accept Kaneki as he is. Despite the fact he scares them. Despite the fact he hurts them. Despite how harsh and cruel he's become. They all choose to stay. Tsukiyama most of all. 

Kaneki will wait. Forever, if he has to. It is the least that Kaneki can do. 

_The blind leading the blind_ , Rize murmurs in his ear.

It makes Kaneki jolt. Shake his head viciously. No no no _no_. Not here. Not _here_. 

Kaneki forces himself to sit up. He sucks in a breath. Roses. Dust. Paper. Tsukiyama. A good memory. A _good_ memory. Kaneki pounds his fist into his thigh. A good memory. He will wait. No one can take that away.

Perhaps it's a blessing that Tsukiyama has left Kaneki alone for a bit. Kaneki forces himself out of the bed. Out of Tsukiyama's bedroom and back in the apartment. Kaneki looks around, fists clenched so tightly that he can feel his nails bending into his flesh. The faint pain grounds him. Allows him to look outward. Away from himself, if only temporarily.

The apartment really is a mess. Kaneki stares about from the bedroom doorway, his brain jangling like a rusty old car. It's mess, he realises, and not just because the books. There's layers of dust over things that should see regular use like the bed behind him and the dining table to the right. Kaneki begins to wander, trying as best as possible not to add to the mess around the place. Based on the dust, it seems that Tsukiyama usually keeps all the drapes and blinds shut, much like he does with his room in their home. He seems to use the kitchen and the living room almost exclusively with some utilisation of the master bathroom. Kaneki suspects that Tsukiyama usually sleeps on the couch. Now that Kaneki really looks it's the only piece of furniture that is clear of excessive books and dust.

Kaneki wonders if Kanae is aware of this. If any of Tsukiyama's family is aware that Tsukiyama is living in what essentially amounts to a bizarre sort of squalor. It's not rotting or sordid, but it's neglect. Tsukiyama is obviously aware that this is not normal. He doesn't live like this in their home. In fact, aside from keeping his bedroom window covered, Tsukiyama is one of the cleaner and more organised people at home. 

Kaneki bends down and picks up the well-loved copy of _Kairo-ko_ from where Tsukiyama had set it on the coffee table before they went to the bedroom. Their undrunk coffee cups fill the sole two free spots on the table. Kaneki traces the edges of the cover, the frayed edges soft and giving under his thumb, before flipping it open. Kaneki has read it before, a long time ago. There was a copy in his father's collection. Kaneki feels a lump in his throat. Another thing he had forgotten.

He remembers, sitting curled up among his father's books, thinking: _what a sad story_.

There's a jingling of keys. The front door's lock turning. Kaneki turns just in time to see Tsukiyama push the door open. He has file under his arm but nothing else. He looks up at Kaneki, blinking once in faint surprise as he shuts the door.

"They deliver it in disposable cooler bags," Tsukiyama says as he toes off his shoes again. "I put it all into my car. I just need to file this and then we can take it back. I'll check over it there."

Back. Kaneki sets _Kairo-ko_ down. He picks up the cold coffee. Tsukiyama begins to pick his way through the mess, the file in hand. Kaneki moves as well. Towards the kitchen to pour the coffee out. 

"I'll wash up," Kaneki says as Tsukiyama comes to stand by the kitchen counter and opens the file. "Unless you want more coffee?"

Tsukiyama shakes his head as he looks at the the first page. "No," he says, a little absentmindedly as he reads. "Thank you. This won't take long."

Kaneki pours out the coffee. Sets the cups down. There's a sponge and dish washing liquid at the top of the sink. Kaneki glances over at the coffee maker, but it's one of those expensive individual ones that Kaneki is more used to seeing at upscale coffee houses than in a private setting. It's probably better if Kaneki doesn't try and tamper with it.

"What are the papers?"

A silence. Kaneki glances back. Tsukiyama is still reading, but Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama is perfectly able to split his attention between reading and talking, sometimes about completely disparate subjects. After a long pause, Tsukiyama looks up. He doesn't smile. Doesn't frown. There's no act. It's just him. 

"Death certificates," Tsukiyama says, and it's blunt and unadorned.

Kaneki's blood runs cold. Tsukiyama watches him. Kaneki swallows.

"Why?"

Tsukiyama smiles. A cold, harsh expression. It's like how he smiled after Kaneki bit his neck. This is a test.

"Sometimes," Tsukiyama murmurs, sweet and very dark, "people come looking for things they shouldn't. Even if no one cared about them in life, sometimes death is the best way to make people think they care. Han-sensei and her team are very careful and very selective. But," and Tsukiyama laughs, the laugh he usually only shows when they're torturing someone for information, "I like to know what I'm eating."

Tsukiyama is trying to scare him. Kaneki isn't scared. He never has been. Tsukiyama has never given him a reason. 

Slowly, Kaneki nods. He doesn't smile. Doesn't frown. He needs Tsukiyama to understand that he accepts this. Kaneki needs to be honest.

"That makes sense," Kaneki says. 

Tsukiyama stares at him. For a long moment, the air feels suspended. But then Tsukiyama shifts. Nothing moves physically, but it's a softening. An ease. Kaneki blinks. Stares as Tsukiyama's lips lift. Tsukiyama smiles. It reaches his eyes. Like it did when Kaneki gave him the magazines. But there's something more this time. Something infinitely warmer. He's looking at Kaneki as if he's seeing him for the first time. Maybe he is. 

He's happy.

"I'm so glad," Tsukiyama says, "that you understand."


	10. Clam Chowder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki wonders, vaguely, how this all became so domestic.

There's something about Tokyo in the summer that makes people crazy.

Kaneki used to just chalk it up to the heat. It's sweltering in the height of summer, even with air conditioning. Women stand beneath umbrella to keep the harsh rays of the sun off, and men squat in the shade of corner shops. Kaneki used to sit under the whale on the playground with Hide and split a popsicle. 

It's the humidity, Kaneki thinks now, that really does people in. Dry heat, so long as there's water, is manageable out of the sun. Humidity presses down. Slicks the skin and sticks to everything. It makes people keep their windows shut and breathe recycled air. The same scents, feelings, people, places: day in and day out. It's no wonder people dream of the countryside in the summer.

"What did you do," Kaneki asks as Tsukiyama and he wait at a stoplight, the air conditioning in Tsukiyama's car turned up and the air recycling, "in the summer as a kid?"

It seems like a safe question to ask. Tsukiyama taps his fingers idly on the wheel. He keeps his eyes on the road, on the people crossing the street. 

"When I was a kid..." Tsukiyama murmurs, and Kaneki watches his lips lift, a very distant expression.

Tsukiyama has been considered an adult since he was eight. Kaneki doesn't know what that means, and he doesn't know how to ask. Kaneki was born a human, and he can only guess that he's considered an adult as a ghoul. As a human, he technically has a handful of months until he's fully come of age. Kaneki knows without having to examine it that he's lost enough of his humanity that that no longer applies. This is the best he can do. The best he can offer.

"Well," Tsukiyama says as the light turns green and they begin to move, "I was educated by tutors, so we didn't really have vacation. I have to admit, when I got to high school and found out that was really a thing, I went a little wild..."

Kaneki's mind throws up a plethora of images at that. A convertible cuts in front of them very abruptly. Tsukiyama slams on the breaks and his palm to the horn. It effectively puts a stop to Kaneki's imagination. 

" _Vaffanculo_!" Tsukiyama barks. 

Kaneki doesn't need to understand Italian to know that is probably really rude. Tsukiyama blows out a breath through his teeth, frowning as he settles his hand back on the wheel. It makes Kaneki smile a little. There's a sort of irony to the situation. If not for fact they're separated by cars and Tsukiyama's self-control, whoever is driving the car now attempting to speed around the other cars in front of them would mincemeat.

Next to Kaneki, Tsukiyama sniffs. He reaches over to the air conditioning, turning it up a notch. Kaneki is a little grateful. He's warm, but it's Tsukiyama's car, so he gets to set the control. In front of them, the car switches lanes, trying to get ahead in the early rush hour traffic. 

"We went hiking up Mount Fuji once," Tsukiyama says, drawing Kaneki's attention back; his eyes are on the road, but his tone is quieter than before. "My father and I. Matsumae came with us. Setsuna-jii, too, now that I think about it. I was five. Maybe six. We went very early so that we could watch the sunrise."

They're at another stoplight. Next to them, the car that cut in front of them is at the stoplight as well. Kaneki glances at the driver. It's a salaryman, who looks very impatient. Kaneki shakes his head slightly, turning back to Tsukiyama, who is also looking out the corner of his eye. He catches Kaneki, and they share a smile for a moment. Small and secretive. It makes Kaneki feel warm in a completely different way.

"Did you make it for the sunrise?"

Tsukiyama nods, turning his attention back to the road to watch the stoplight. "There were a lot of humans. I was a bit young, so that was distracting. But from what I do remember, it was very beautiful. It reminded me of lilies. Setsuna-jii liked the comparison."

There's a gamble. Kaneki takes it.

"Who's Setsuna?"

Tsukiyama's lips twitch. "She was Father's..." and he pauses for a long moment as they make a right turn. "Well, she was to Father what Matsumae is to me, I suppose. Sort of like a governess."

Kaneki blinks. He knows the word, but only from books and dramas. Kaneki thinks of Matsumae, of her dour, cold bearing. _Calm yourself, Tsukiyama-san._ Kaneki had thought she was mad, telling Tsukiyama when he was so obviously angry something like that. 

"I don't understand."

It draws a soft chuckle from Tsukiyama. He smiles, somewhat distant and a little rueful. It's an expression that Kaneki has grown used to seeing when Tsukiyama realises he's rambled on and left people behind on a topic. Kaneki has always thought that it's a cute look.

"Matsumae's a teacher," he says as they come to another stoplight, "and she's the person who took care of me when I was young. Since I came of age at the age I did, she really had her work cut out for her. I -" and Tsukiyama laughs as the light turns green. "I wasn't a very good student."

Kaneki smiles, but he doesn't laugh. He thinks of the textbooks filled with careful notes and highlighted sections stuffed in the bookcase and lying scattered around Tsukiyama's apartment. The fashion magazines Tsukiyama sits and dogears and annotates, much in the same fashion as his textbooks. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama watch the road.

"Didn't you graduate at the top of your year?" 

Hinami had asked, back when Tsukiyama started spending more time with them after finishing university. Kaneki had been busy reading over some new information regarding Aogiri Tree's movements and tuned out the rest of that conversation. He wants to kick himself for that now.

They run into another red light. Tsukiyama glances at him, his expression faintly surprised. It hurts a little, to think that Tsukiyama hadn't thought Kaneki would remember something like that. It hurts because it's true. Until recently, Kaneki wouldn't have naturally bothered to remember something like that. 

"I did," Tsukiyama says, and his lips twitch, a lopsided kind of grimace. "Can you keep a secret, Kaneki-san?"

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama looks back at the road. The stoplight. The grimace evens out. It's different from his smiles. It shows a faint line of teeth. Tsukiyama has very clean, very white, very straight teeth. It's a little unnatural. It gives him away as a predator, if not a ghoul.

"I wanted," he says, very low, "to study music."

Kaneki watches him. The light turns green. Tsukiyama watches the road and the other cars, all moving relatively slowly. Kaneki turns his eyes to the road, too. 

"You have," Kaneki says, matching the lowness of Tsukiyama's tone, "a very nice singing voice."

Tsukiyama looks at him in the rearview mirror. The grimace softens. Kaneki said the right thing. Tsukiyama breathes out, a little laugh. His eyes move with it. It makes Kaneki smile again. It's a selfish thought, but now that Kaneki has had a taste of what Tsukiyama looks like when he's happy, Kaneki wants more. Kaneki wants to make Tsukiyama smile. Laugh. Loud and real and unfettered. 

He wants to lean over. Pepper Tsukiyama's lips and cheeks with kisses. Caress his hair and nuzzle their noses together. Kaneki wants to know if Tsukiyama would like that. If it would make him look at Kaneki like he did in that brief moment back in his apartment when he saw Kaneki. Not afraid or thoughtful or understanding or entertained. Happy.

"Thank you," Tsukiyama says, and it's at a more regular volume. "I'm best at piano, though, so that would have been what I'd have studied. I've thought about composition, but I don't know if I have the patience for it."

Kaneki hears himself click his tongue before he can stop himself. He shakes his head, half at himself, half at Tsukiyama. Looks down at his lap.

"You're very creative," Kaneki says, and it's somewhat muttered as he kicks himself for making such a dismissive noise. "I'm sure you'd do fine."

No response. Kaneki glances up. Tsukiyama is paying attention to the road, but his right hand is gripping the steering wheel much tighter than his left. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama breathe. It's with his chest. Shallow and slow. Kaneki wonders how much of his life Tsukiyama has spent controlling himself. It must be a lot. Kaneki can count the times that he has seen Tsukiyama lose control on two fingers. The nightclub and the basement. Both were Kaneki's fault.

"Maybe," Tsukiyama says, and it's very soft, almost breathy, "one day I'll get to play something for you."

There's an image that comes to mind. A piano. Maybe in a university practice room somewhere or even at a music shop. Kaneki swallows. 

"What," and it's a little hoarse; he hasn't imagined something so tame in a long time, "would you play?"

They're close to home. Tsukiyama signals left. They turn as a slow, even smile spreads over Tsukiyama's face. It moves his cheeks. They used to be fuller, Kaneki realises, back when all of this started. Kaneki wants to lean over and kiss.

"Liszt," Tsukiyama murmurs, a little whimsically; maybe he's imagining something similar to what Kaneki did, too. "Or Chopin. I -" and he breathes out, a soft, self-conscious giggle. "I'd like to play you some Scarlatti, but only if I can borrow a harpsichord. It's no good on a piano."

Kaneki breathes in. "A harpsichord?" he asks, and he can hear something in his voice that he thought he'd lost forever. "Where would we get a harpsichord?"

It makes Tsukiyama giggle again as they turn in front of their home. Tsukiyama pulls into the covered parking garage. Shuts off the engine. He unbuckles himself as he glances over at Kaneki. He's still smiling, but there's a different light to his eyes. They flicker over Kaneki's face. Taking him in. 

"I don't know," Tsukiyama says, meeting Kaneki's gaze again. "But -"

He lifts his left hand. Extends it. Kaneki swallows. He nods. Tsukiyama's expression softens. He touches the tips of his fingers to the side of Kaneki's head, just over his right ear. He telegraphs his hand's movement around the back of Kaneki's head. Cupping the base of the skull. His eyes are very red.

"If that happens," Tsukiyama says, "I'll find one."

The kiss is soft. Warm. Gentle. Kaneki breathes in. The scent of roses. Coffee. Paper. All the things that Kaneki has come to love. Kaneki kisses back. Tries to match the softness and warmth. Hopes to convey some level of gentleness. Tsukiyama has such a sweet taste. A little sharpness. Kaneki breathes out as Tsukiyama pulls away. 

"I think," Kaneki whispers, hopes, "I'd like that."

 

The looks that greet Kaneki and Tsukiyama when they open the front door are interesting to say the least.

Hinami smiles, a perfect imitation of guileless joy. "Welcome home, Kaneki-niisan, Tsukiyama-san! You're home early."

Kaneki smiles back, probably far wider and far more sincere than anyone is used to seeing him smile because it makes the suspicious look on Banjou's face go from suspicious to frankly disbelieving. Tsukiyama, in his usual addiction to politeness, says something that must be normal for him as a greeting as he steps around Kaneki with his load of cooler bags in hand. Beating a hasty retreat to the safety of the kitchen. Kaneki follows after with the third bag, not quite able to make himself stop smiling. Or to come up with something normal to stay. Kaneki may be an idiot. 

Hinami joins them, clambering up onto one of the stools that far into the kitchen. Banjou remains seated with Sante on the couch in front of the television, but he makes no secret of staring at the real show.

"Wow," Hinami says, very enthusiastic, "is that all food? That's a lot more than usual."

Kaneki sets the cooler down on the title. Tsukiyama has done the same with the one he was carrying in his left hand, but he's just hefted the one in his right onto the counter. He's about to start his usual process of checking, cataloguing, and preparing meat either for immediate consumption, cooking, or freezing. 

"It's an additional body," Tsukiyama says, a little absentmindedly as he unzips the cooler and studies the contents. "Oh!"

He lifts out what is, while wrapped very securely in plastic and duct tape, undeniably an entire ribcage. Kaneki hastily looks away from the ribcage. At Tsukiyama's face. He looks pleased and excited. A part of Kaneki, growing smaller every day, still finds this alarming. A bigger part, more logical, points out that Tsukiyama does have good reason to be enthused by the ribcage. It's a meal enough for everyone.

"Oh!" Hinami says, and it's not quite as baldly pleased, but there's the same level of excitement. "What are you going to do with that?"

Kaneki glances at her. She's watching Tsukiyama intently. It occurs to Kaneki that Tsukiyama and Hinami spend a lot of time together. Tsukiyama has taken over much of Hinami's non-kanji and literature tutoring. Hinami joins Tsukiyama nearly everyday in the kitchen to learn how to cook. They've gone shopping together in the past, and sometimes Tsukiyama takes Hinami down to the corner shop or to the bookstore if Kaneki is busy. It's in moments like these that Kaneki feels like every time he looks at her, she's changing. She's growing up so fast.

"Mhm," Tsukiyama says, and he's turning the ribcage over in his hands, completely engrossed in it. "If we had a grill, that's what I'd use, but you never can go wrong with a good roast."

He sets the ribcage down on the counter in front of the coffeemaker. Turns back to the cooler. Hinami slides off the kitchen stool, coming around the counter to join him. Kaneki watches her stand on her toes to look into the bag. Tsukiyama glances at her. She smiles. He smiles back. Kaneki looks away, pulling out a stool and sitting down at the counter as they begin to work. Tsukiyama labels packages and Hinami either sets them aside or puts them away into the refrigerator and freezer. It's natural now. They've done this so many times.

The part of Kaneki that is growing smaller and smaller recoils at the scene. Hinami is fourteen. She shouldn't have to do these kinds of things. Shouldn't need to handle humans like meat. The other part points out that Hinami is a year younger than Kanae, who has been killing since at least thirteen. This has been part of Tsukiyama's life since he was at least eight. Kaneki thinks of the ghouls who frequented Anteiku for meat. Some older, some younger, all not of the build, position, or temperament to be able to acquire food for themselves. He thinks of Touka. Of Yoshimura. Even Ayato. Kouto. Kei.

_Living means eating others_

Kaneki swallows. Clenches his fists against his thighs. Resists the urge to crack his knuckles. In front of him, Hinami is putting a large package into the refrigerator while Tsukiyama stuffs the empty cooler bag into the trash. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Hinami says, and she's taken out an almost empty container of stock that has small globs floating in it. "Has this gone bad?"

Tsukiyama hefts the bag that he'd been carrying in his left hand onto the counter whilst looking at the container. It's the heaviest one by far. He grimaces.

"Yes. That's mould. Put it in the sink, but keep the cover on."

She nods. Moves around Tsukiyama and Kaneki to put it in the sink. Tsukiyama unzips the cooler bag. His expression twists into a somewhat bizarre expression. It's somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

"Seriously?" he mutters.

He lifts out two blood bags. Kaneki blinks. Hinami looks surprised as well. Tsukiyama sighs through his nose as he reads the hospital labels, expression losing its amusement. He's just annoyed now. 

"Seriously," he sighs. 

Tsukiyama sets the bags back in the container, crossing his arms as he looks down into it. Hinami moves to his side. Peers into the bag. Her eyebrows go up.

"Wow," she says, a little hushed. "That's a lot."

Tsukiyama sighs again. He moves over to the sink. Washes his hands. He wipes them a kitchen towel before pulling out his cellphone. He smiles, more than a little strained. 

"Could you put those all in the refrigerator for now, Hinami-chan? I need to make a phone call."

She nods. Smiles gently. Tsukiyama's smile twitches, awkward. He turns away, thumbing through his phone as he crosses the living room and goes into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind him. Kaneki catches Banjou's eye as Sante gets up from the couch, sensing the atmosphere. 

"I think Ichimi and Jiro wanted to catch a movie," Sante says, moving towards the bedroom the siblings share.

"Oh, okay," Banjou says, smiling a little as Sante waves. "Have fun."

Kaneki crosses over to sit next to Banjou. Sante goes into the bedroom and shuts the door. Banjou turns to face Kaneki. He frowns. 

"So."

Kaneki looks at the television. It's a soap opera rerun. It looks like it's based in a hospital. A version of _E.R._ or _Grey's Anatomy_. Maybe it's even one of those, just dubbed over. Kaneki really has no idea.

Banjou's eyes are burning a hole into the side of Kaneki's head. He shifts slightly, leaning just into Kaneki's space. He speaks just above a whisper.

"You smell of Tsukiyama."

Despite himself, Kaneki turns his head so fast that his neck pops. He knows his face is a bright red. His ears are possibly on fire. Banjou's lips twitch. Almost a smirk. His eyes are still fairly serious, though. He stares for a long moment. Kaneki doesn't know what he's looking for. What Banjou could possibly want him to say. Evidently, he wanted Kaneki to say something because the brief flash of humour dies. Banjou frowns again.

"I heard the two of you leave this morning," Banjou says, and it's not accusatory; it's actually rather gentle. "I'm glad that it didn't turn out like that shopping trip."

Kaneki nods. Perhaps too quickly. He can feel his brain jarring slightly from the motion. 

"Yes," Kaneki starts before realising he doesn't really have anything else to say. "Yes."

Banjou's lips twitch again. He regards Kaneki for a moment before Tsukiyama's door opens again. They both look over. Tsukiyama is staring at his phone as he crosses back across the living room to the kitchen. His expression has gone from annoyed to actively cross. Hinami, who had just sat down at the counter again, has a surprised expression on her face.

"What's wrong?"

Tsukiyama blows out a sigh, setting his phone facedown on the counter as he rounds it. "It's nothing," he mutters, which means it's something; he barrels on before anyone can comment. "Let's finish this and then I'll figure out what to do with the blood."

"Could," and Hinami's expression and tone is hesitant but a little hopeful, "we make blood soup? I really like that."

Tsukiyama stops, a package of what is undoubtedly a hand in his own. "Of," he says, blinking at Hinami, "course." He laughs, some of the temper chased from his expression. "I should have thought of that."

"I had a thought," Hinami says, sliding off the stool to stand next to Tsukiyama again, "about how my mother used to make it. She used to strain the soup through a sieve. It made it really smooth."

"Ah!" Tsukiyama exclaims. "That makes perfect sense."

The temper from earlier is completely gone. Kaneki can see his entire demeanour has lit up, his smile spreading across his face and reaching his eyes. Hinami beams back, accepting the hand to put in the refrigerator. Tsukiyama turns back into the cooler, humming thoughtfully. 

"That should have been obvious," he says, half to himself and half to her. "Eliza never does that, but she joined the household after Grandmother and Setsuna passed, so it's not her fault for not knowing. Still! What a wonderful revelation!"

Hinami giggles, very happy. Tsukiyama joins her. They dissolve into a cheerful conversation about soup, taste, and texture. It's punctuated by light laughter. It sound like birds. Kaneki turns back to the television. Next to him, Banjou is still looking into the kitchen, the look on his face warring between amused and low-grade disturbance. 

Kaneki leans back to the couch. Folds his hands over his stomach. The soap opera shows two characters holding each other in barely clothed ecstasy in a hospital bed. Kaneki gazes at it for a long moment before pushing himself up. He leans forward to pick up the remote. Switches the channel to the news. It's the weather report. Tomorrow is going to be another scorcher.

Kaneki rests his chin on his left hand, elbow pressing into his thigh. He wonders, vaguely, how this all became so domestic. Almost mundane.

It's laughable.

 

Kaneki trains with Banjou down in the basement for two hours. It feels good to stretch out the body, to let loose a bit after everything that's happened recently. They train until the smell of cooking seeps down and Banjou's stomach is not able to ignore it anymore. It smells good to Kaneki, too, and it's more dangerous for Kaneki to be distracted than Banjou. They stand for a long moment, Kaneki panting and Banjou wiping his face and arms up on the towel he'd brought down.

"Damn," he murmurs, looking up the stairs. "That smells delicious."

They emerge to much the same scene as when they went downstairs. Tsukiyama has his hair pinned up as does Hinami. Hinami is cutting tendons and bits of skin off of meat. Tsukiyama is in the process of straining the blood soup. Hinami looks around Tsukiyama, eyes somehow friendly and piercing at the same time. 

"Are you hungry?"

"Super hungry," Banjou says immediately so that Kaneki doesn't have to come to a decision quite yet. "But we stink -"

"Soup's almost done," Tsukiyama says; he doesn't look up, concentrating on not overflowing the sieve.

"It's fresh," Hinami says, and her light tone is nonetheless utterly commanding.

Blood doesn't keep very well, even after it's been cooked. Kaneki glances at Banjou, who glances back. Banjou shrugs. He did try. Kaneki tries his best to smile. 

"Thank you," he says, earning a sharp smile from Hinami.

Banjou and Kaneki pull out the two stools that face into the kitchen around the counter as Tsukiyama finishes with the straining and Hinami begins to pull out soup bowls and deep spoons. Kaneki sits next to Tsukiyama's phone, which is still upside down on the left end. He's tempted to pick it up and open it the lock screen to see if Tsukiyama is perhaps ignoring texts. That would be more of an invasion of privacy than their living situation already is, though. 

"Tsukiyama-san and I," Hinami says, effectively drawing Kaneki's attention back, "were thinking about what we should do at Obon this Saturday. I want to get a lantern, and Tsukiyama-san said he knows someone who sells special ones."

That the special aspect is the lanterns are made specifically for ghouls goes unsaid. Kaneki glances at Tsukiyama who is in the process of ladling out soup into the bowls. Hinami continues speaking as she turns to the bowls, picking up the two that have already had soup distributed to them.

"I'll get to write the names of my parents on the top of the candle," she says, turning around and circling the counter to set a bowl in front of Banjou and Kaneki each, "so it'll burn off and no one will know."

Kaneki nods in thanks for the bowl. He doesn't know what to say. Tsukiyama turns around with the other two bowls in hand. His expression is calm and placid. Unreadable. He sets down a bowl for Hinami and another for himself. Hinami sits down across from Banjou, which puts Tsukiyama across from Kaneki. Banjou breathes out audibly.

"Thanks for the meal."

Kaneki echoes him. Hinami smiles, gentle but nowhere near guileless. Tsukiyama nods, his expression unchanging. He's elsewhere mentally. Kaneki takes a spoonful of his serving of soup. Raises it to his mouth. He sips it, very careful not to think about it. It's hot and very smooth. Kaneki's body feels like it's singing. In front of him, Tsukiyama is stirring his soup, watching the steam rise with the motion.

"Oh, man," Banjou murmurs, "this is really good."

"It is," Kaneki echoes, and he means it. 

This makes both Hinami and Tsukiyama smile. Real smiles. Hinami's is wide and easy and bright, her spoon slightly lifted from the bowl. Tsukiyama's is small and close-lipped. his eyes flicker from Banjou to Kaneki. He blinks for a moment. Staring at Kaneki. 

"Oh, good!" Hinami says as Tsukiyama hastily drops his eyes back to his bowl. "We worked really hard on it."

"I can tell," Banjou says as Kaneki watches Tsukiyama's cheeks start to flush. "How many times did you strain it?"

"Three times," Hinami says as Tsukiyama finally makes a spoonful of his serving soup. "It looked weird after the first time, so we thought we might have wrecked it."

"It started to separate," Tsukiyama says after swallowing the spoonful; he says it to the bowl like it's actually a person. "I forgot to turn the heat down."

Kaneki forces himself to take another mouthful of soup. It really does taste good. It has -

"It's creamy," Kaneki hears himself say; it makes everyone look at him in surprise. "It's sort of," and a part of Kaneki feels completely insane and the other elated, "like clam chowder."

The smile on Hinami's face is massive. She looks happy in a way that Kaneki realises suddenly he's not seen in months. It makes her look like the little girl Kaneki first met back at Anteiku. Tsukiyama's entire face and even his ears are on fire. He's looking studiously down into his soup like it holds all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Next to Kaneki, Banjou blows out a low sigh.

"Clam chowder, huh," Banjou murmurs, and Kaneki glances over to see a warm smile on his face.

They continue to eat, the four of them. Kaneki finds it strangely easy to eat the soup, thinking of it as clam chowder. It hadn't been his favourite soup, but they'd had it on special at Big Girl occasionally to fit in with the American diner theme. He tells them about this as the thoughts bubble up. It's maybe not the most organised way to speak, but it doesn't drag against any of the sharp things inside of Kaneki's brain. 

"The place was called 'Big Girl'?" Banjou asks, somewhat incredulous.

Kaneki clears his throat, feeling his cheeks heat. "Uh," he says, grimacing. "Yes."

Banjou face splits into a huge grin while Tsukiyama starts coughing. He hastily covers his mouth with one of the paper napkins, eyes squinted slightly as he looks at Kaneki over it. Kaneki makes the mistake of looking at Hinami. The look on Hinami's face clearly communicates she knows exactly what is being implied.

"I used to live near that restaurant," she says, very bland.

Tsukiyama has to turn around on the stool to cough wetly into the napkin, shoulders jolting with what is clearly humour. Banjou's mouth opens in shock before he throws his head back and roars with laughter. Hinami reaches over and pats Tsukiyama's left shoulder gently as he wheezes audibly. Kaneki feels like he should try to be defensive, but there's no actual will. He reaches up and scratches an itch on his chin.

"We went there for the food. That's all."

The wheeze that Tsukiyama makes sounds extremely unhealthy. Hinami just raises an eyebrow, very expressively. Banjou snorts.

"Stop while you're behind," Banjou advises, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "You doing alright there, Tsukiyama-san?"

Tsukiyama flashes a thumbs up. Kaneki finds himself scratching the back of his neck, face hot again. He'd never really focused on that particular aspect of Big Girl as much as Hide had, but Kaneki would have to be dead not to have noticed. There was one server in particular who worked the dinner shifts -

Kaneki concentrates on scooping the last of his soup out of the bowl. "Well, it is a competitor of Hooters, so it sort of just comes with the territory, I guess, but they had really good deals."

"Uh huh," Banjou and Hinami say at exactly the same time while Tsukiyama wheezes.

Kaneki decides he probably should stop talking. This hole could end up potentially a lot deeper. He puts the last of the soup in his mouth, swallowing. He sets his spoon into his bowl. Banjou and Hinami have finished theirs, but Tsukiyama's is only half-eaten. Kaneki picks up his own bowl, holding out his other hand.

"I'll take care of the dishes."

"I'll help," Banjou says.

Hinami hands her bowl and spoon to Kaneki. Tsukiyama's breathing is coming back under his control. Kaneki slides of his stool and around the counter as Tsukiyama turns back to his soup. There's a lot of dishes in the sink, but that's to be expected with all the work that Hinami and Tsukiyama had been doing. Banjou joins Kaneki at the sink as Kaneki reaches for the sponge and washing up liquid.

Kaneki washes. Banjou dries. Hinami moves away after a little while to go to her room to get a book. Tsukiyama retrieves his phone and continues nursing his soup as he thumbs through emails and messages. Kaneki glances at the little clock on the coffeemaker. It's almost eight in the evening. Kaneki doesn't remember the last time that he sat down around dinnertime and actually had a meal.

How strange, Kaneki thinks. It's sort of wonderful.

 

There's the sound of the late evening news on the television when Kaneki gets out of the shower. It's not on at a volume that anyone watches television puts it at, so Kaneki can guess that Tsukiyama is sitting in front of it with one of his fashion magazines. Kaneki towels his hair, listening to the reporter rattle on about rising oil prices. It's a bizarre sort of white noise.

The sound of a door opening.

"Hey," Kaneki hears Banjou say. "Tsukiyama-san."

A pause. Kaneki wipes his face. 

"What?"

Banjou sighs. "Come here."

The rustling of paper. There's a shifting before the television turns off. Bare feet moving across the floor. Kaneki finishes toweling off. Hangs his towel up. 

"What?" Tsukiyama asks again.

There's a pause. Kaneki pulls on his boxers and pajama shorts. More footsteps as Kaneki pulls on his pajama top. A door shutting. They've gone into Banjou's bedroom.

Kaneki opens the bathroom door. He doesn't bother debating eavesdropping. There's no point in not doing it when everyone has acknowledged it's going to happen. Maybe if Kaneki was who he used to be, he would still feel bad. That Kaneki is long gone.

"What happened?" 

Kaneki settles into couch closest to his bedroom door. Since it's that sort of question and Banjou has a slight strain to his diction, there must have been a long silence. Kaneki can immediately guess what Banjou would be asking Tsukiyama about. It's Kaneki's fault that Tsukiyama is in this position. Kaneki hadn't been exactly forthcoming when Banjou asked him earlier. It's a little sad although not unexpected that Banjou doesn't expect Kaneki to be forthcoming.

Tsukiyama sighs. There's the sound of a desk chair. Someone sitting down. 

"Nothing."

It's Banjou's turn to sigh. "You're so full of bullshit," he says, annoyed but not angry.

Tsukiyama laughs. Soft and breathy. There's the sound of fabric. Mattress and boxspring creaking. Someone is sitting on the bed.

"Kaneki-san is done with his shower," Tsukiyama murmurs. "He's probably listening."

This is true. Banjou snorts.

"Whatever," he says; it's not dismissive, just accepting. "Answer the question."

A shuffling. Kaneki tilts his head up. Water drips onto the back of the couch. He looks at the ceiling. The paint job is incredibly uninspiring.

"We," and it's so soft and low that it's almost inaudible, "kissed."

It's very quiet. Kaneki can't hear anything else in the house. He hopes that Hinami, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante are all asleep. It's a bit much to hope.

Banjou lets out a long, low whistle. "Well," he says, and it's more than a little wondering; it would be insulting if Kaneki wasn't aware of how much Banjou cares. "Was it your first?"

Tsukiyama makes a noise. High-pitched and surprised. Kaneki blinks. The ceiling goes in and out of focus as Tsukiyama dissolves into semi-hysterical giggles.

"What?" Tsukiyama giggles, amused and incredulous. "No, of course not. I'm twenty-two."

No response. Tsukiyama's giggles taper off rather quickly. The bed creaks.

"What does age have to do with it?"

Another long pause. "Well," Tsukiyama says, subdued, "nothing. Why? Haven't you had your first?"

Banjou breathes out through his nose. "Yeah," he says, and it's a little low. "I guess it really felt like it mattered then."

Silence. Kaneki swallows. A first kiss. It wasn't Tsukiyama's, but it was Kaneki's. Kaneki -

"Banjou-san."

"Hm?"

There's shifting. Fabric sliding against fabric. The desk chair rolls slightly on the floor.

"Is," and Tsukiyama's voice is low again, but there's a strange tinge to it, an uncertainty, "it supposed to matter?"

The bed creaks. "What?"

Banjou's voice is openly disbelieving. Kaneki's mouth has gone dry. Tsukiyama doesn't respond immediately. When he does, his voice has gone very small and very young.

"It never mattered. Before, I mean. It was just -" and Tsukiyama laughs a little, a high little breath. "It's what you do, you know?"

"No," Banjou says, immediate and firm. "I don't."

Kaneki closes his eyes. He lifts a hand to his chest. Fists the fabric of his pajama top. In the bedroom, Tsukiyama breathes out audibly.

"Kaneki-san," he says, and there's a wavering to his tone, like he's unmoored, "is different. In that, I mean. He isn't--it's not the same. It's not his fault that, that -" 

There's an odd noise that Kaneki can't identify. Tsukiyama laughs, much like he did before. Uncertain. Discombobulated. Floundering.

"I'm not trying," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds increasingly confused, "to mislead or to, to, to--I like him, too, and I don't, I don't... I don't? Banjou-san, am I drunk? I--I don't know what I'm saying."

The last part is muffled. Like Tsukiyama has put his face in his hands. The bed creaks. There's a couple of footsteps. Kaneki squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he can see little squiggles against the back of his eyelids. They look like tiny worms. Or centipedes.

"I really do like him," Tsukiyama says, upset and beseeching.

Kaneki opens his eyes. He looks to the hallway. He wonders if he should go in there. If this something he should hear. If he would be able to help at all. After all, Tsukiyama is the one who is good with words. For him to struggle -

"I don't think anyone doubts that," Banjou says, and he sounds more than a little sad. "He likes you, too."

Kaneki does. He just doesn't have the right words for it. He doesn't know how to tell Tsukiyama how much he loves him without hurting him. What Kaneki had said in the heat of the moment had thrown Tsukiyama enough. Kaneki doesn't blame him. If someone told Kaneki they wanted to devour him: Kaneki already knows how terrifying that is. For all of Tsukiyama's strengths, his finesse, harshness, and intellect, when it comes to matters of the heart, Tsukiyama is fragile. Kaneki is coming to understand this. 

It's something they both share.

Maybe, selfishly, it's part of why Kaneki loves him. 

"Banjou-san," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds a little less confused but no less upset. "Is he in the living room?"

Kaneki doesn't bother getting up from the couch as Banjou opens his bedroom door. Banjou looks at him for a long moment before he turns around. Kaneki can see every single muscle in Banjou's back is tense.

"Yes."

Tsukiyama laughs. There's the sound of the desk chair moving. Tsukiyama steps around Banjou, who looks after him with a slightly surprised expression. Tsukiyama's hair is in disarray, and he's wearing one of his oversized sleepshirts. This one is a rich purple. It has long sleeves that hide his hands. Kaneki wonders, distantly in the back of his brain, what exactly is the market for these sorts of sleepshirts. It might just be Tsukiyama, who is moving to sit next to Kaneki on the couch. The coffee table has the television remote and the issue of _Classy_ that Kaneki picked up. Tsukiyama picks the magazine up after sitting down, opening it over his lap to the page he used his pen to save.

Kaneki stares at him for a long moment. Tsukiyama looks down at the page. Banjou leans against the frame of his bedroom door, watching them both. Tsukiyama's hair falls into his face. 

Kaneki reaches out. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He catches some of the stray strands of Tsukiyama's hair. He tucks them back behind Tsukiyama's right ear. Out of his eyes. Tsukiyama's lips twitch. There's an unsettled light in his downwards gaze, but he isn't unwelcoming. Kaneki traces his fingers over the shell of Tsukiyama's ear. Once. Twice. The light begins to settle. Tsukiyama's glances at him. Calm but not placid. There. 

Against the door frame, Banjou breathes out. He pushes off, moving to sit on the adjacent couch. He leans forward and picks up the remote. Switches the television back on. He changes the channel to a late night comedy show. The laugh track rolls in the background.

Slowly, Kaneki lets himself drift to lean against Tsukiyama's side. Rest his head on the curve of his shoulder. He plays with Tsukiyama's hair. It's soft. Tsukiyama begins writing in the magazine, dogearing pages as he goes. His breathing is slow, deep, and even. Kaneki watches the television. Not seeing it. 

Kaneki falls asleep like that. He doesn't dream.


	11. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kaneki-niisan," Hinami says, looking to Kaneki with an expression at once tentative and determined, "may I ask a favour of you?"

**Early December, 8 Months Ago**

A mild fall is turning into a mild winter.

Under any other circumstance, Kanae would enjoy it immensely. The previous three turns of fall to winter were fairly intense. Last year there was a typhoon, which threw not only the gardens and the grounds but the schedule of the household into disarray. They even had to call Shuu back to estate to help with harvesting due to having to dip into the emergency food stock. It was the first time that Shuu assisted in harvesting since he and Mirumo argued about methodology. It was an amazing but terrifying experience. There's a strangeness that has worked its way into Shuu's fighting form, a willingness to use more than just his kagune. He's become efficient.

It didn't sit well with the others who assisted in harvesting. Not because Shuu disturbed the process. He didn't. He expedited it. The stock had been replenished within a week. Everyone had been able to take a day off even with the holiday party season approaching. Kanae doesn't remember a more relaxed lead up to the holidays in a long time. Shuu's efficiency didn't sit well much for the same reason things are tense now. 

Shuu has always been more adept than Mirumo in hunting. That was not new. Efficiency, though, has bled into other aspects of Shuu's abilities. He's quicker to explain things. He manages his time and responsibilities well. He's better at handling business partners, human and ghoul alike. It's impossible to ignore how much Shuu has grown up over the past few years since starting university. But it's come with a cost: Shuu and Mirumo no longer get along. It's not a belated teenage rebellion. It's two powers clashing until one forfeits or is destroyed.

The Tsukiyama family is undergoing a power struggle.

Punctuating this in a way the mild weather does not, Shuu and Mirumo argued again at breakfast coffee. It means that Mirumo is drinking in the morning and that Shuu is out running. Kanae stands inside of the closed doors of the greenhouse, watching Shuu lap around the grounds for perhaps the ninth or tenth time. Kanae missed when exactly Shuu started because Kanae was getting dressed. Shuu runs past, legs exposed in athletic shorts and arms bare in the short-sleeved running top. Kanae worries the lower lip between teeth. Even with the fair weather, it's still quite chilly. Winter clothes came out halfway through November. 

Footsteps. Kanae glances back. Matsumae has entered the greenhouse and makes her way to stand next to Kanae. She doesn't look at Kanae, but she doesn't need to. Her eyes remain on the glass that looks out, her hands hanging by her sides. Kanae swallows.

"Should I -"

Matsumae shakes her head. Her eyes flicker back and forth, searching for Shuu. She won't find him. He passed out of view a while ago. Matsumae breathes in, turning her gaze to Kanae again.

"How many times has he gone around?"

Kanae grimaces. "This will be about the tenth."

Matsumae inclines her head briefly before stepping forward. She opens the door and walks out onto the path. Kanae follows to stand in the doorway. Matsumae stands at false ease. Waiting.

Shuu comes into view. He catches sight of Matsumae immediately but doesn't pause in his progress. Kanae is fairly sure that Shuu knows Kanae was watching for most of his run. Shuu slows as he approaches, breath coming out in wide puffs of white air. He comes to a stop in front of Matsumae, dipping forward to grasp his knees. His hair sticks to his forehead and cheeks. 

"Come inside," Matsumae says, very softly.

Shuu shakes his head. He reaches up with his right hand. Pushes his hair off his face. He scrubs at his eyes. 

"Don't concern yourself with me," he says, strained and dangerously close to something that Kanae knows Shuu would hate for anyone but them to see. "Make sure Father doesn't do something _stupid_."

"Mario is attending to Mirumo-san," Matsumae says, very calm, very controlled. "It's cold out, Tsukiyama-san."

Carefully, Kanae steps outside to join them. Shuu's breaths are shallow and strained. His eyes are a bit red. If Kanae didn't know Shuu so well, it would be easy to pass off as the cold or exertion. Shuu's been crying. He's shivering, too. He doesn't look up at Kanae. He's blinking too much.

Matsumae wavers. It's not a movement. It's a shift in her air. Kanae comes to stand just behind her. She keeps the respectful three paces from Shuu, so Kanae is four. Kanae knows that Matsumae wants to reach out, wants to take Shuu and shield him. She can't. Shuu is too old for it, and they are not in private where he could ask her. Kanae cannot move forward either. In front of them, Shuu drops down into a squat. Balances on the balls of his feet. It's an impolite position, just like how he's wiping his face and neck with his hands and wiping them on the cap-sleeves of his shirt. 

"I'm fine," Shuu says, resting his elbows on his knees, his forehead on his upturned hands. "Just cold."

"Come inside," Matsumae says, very reasonable. "Felice is making coffee."

Shuu sighs. He stands up. He keeps his gaze on the ground. At some space between his shoes and the pavement. He looks, Kanae can't help but think, deeply unhappy. 

"Coffee," Shuu says, and his tone is listless, unenthusiastic. "Yes, that would be nice. Have it brought to the greenhouse. I would..." 

He looks up. His gaze meets Kanae's and then drifts towards the greenhouse entrance. He sighs again. Begins to move towards the entrance.

"Yes," he mutters as he passes them, "that would be nice."

Kanae follows. Matsumae does as well. It's a parade, Kanae thinks with a note of hysteria. 

Shuu opens the greenhouse door. Steps inside. He moves over to the closest table. They had bought new ones in the summer. Kanae follows alongside Shuu as Matsumae passes them, heading back into the mansion to retrieve coffee. She'll likely pick up a warm towel and something more for Shuu to wear. Shuu pulls out a chair. He sits down, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. His entire body is tense. He's suppressing the instinct to shiver. Kanae sits in the chair adjacent to Shuu's right. Folds hands in the lap.

"How," Shuu starts, and even his voice is tense; he must be really cold, "are the food stores?"

He must be thinking of last year. Kanae settles back in the chair. Watches Shuu watch the ceiling.

"They're in good condition," Kanae says, trying to affect some of the calm that Matsumae has such mastery of. "We just had a round of harvesting on Tuesday."

Shuu nods. He shifts forward slightly, righting his head. His gaze wanders over the table. To Kanae. They gaze at each other for a long moment before Shuu smiles. It's one of his honest ones. Pensive and tired and unhappy. The sweat from his run is drying on his skin. It must be making him even colder. Shuu gets cold easily nowadays. 

His gaze drifts to Kanae's shoulders, wrists, the hem of the pants. Shuu looks back up at Kanae, eyebrows rising. He's noticed that Kanae's starting to outgrow his uniform. It chases some of the unhappiness out of his expression. 

"You've grown taller."

It makes Kanae smile, too, a little shyly. Shuu breathes out, almost a laugh. He's still tense and obviously tired, but he's relaxing, at least a little bit. 

"Well, now I know what to treat you to for Christmas," Shuu says, soft and openly fond. "Have you seen anything recently you particularly like?"

That's a hard question. Kanae's arms cross unconsciously. It's difficult to decide, especially since Kanae has always favoured fall/winter collections. This season will be going out soon, and next year's preview is only just about to begin. Kanae cannot be seen to be behind on the times and anything less than fashionable and in the know. Despite Kanae's role and employment as a servant, Kanae is still the last von Rosewald. Kanae is not a simple servant, not around ghouls and some of the humans in the know.

Next to Kanae, Shuu laughs slightly. Kanae had been staring off into space. Shuu's expression isn't mocking, though. It's knowing and almost what Kanae dares to imagine would be considered brotherly. They've been mistaken for siblings more and more in recent years. There is the obvious family resemblance with their colouring. Kanae selfishly enjoys those moments, much as Kanae suspects Matsumae secretly enjoys being mistaken for Shuu's older sister on rare occasions. 

The door at the back of the greenhouse opens. Matsumae makes her way towards them, a tray of coffee balanced on her right forearm and what looks like a towel and a cotton robe tucked under her left. Shuu sighs. He stands up, using his right arm to push back the chair.

"Matsumae," he says, holding out his hands, "let me take something."

She frowns at Shuu. "Please, Tsukiyama-san, you mustn't trouble yourself."

She leans around him to set down the coffee tray for Kanae to set about serving. Kanae keeps half an eye on Shuu and Matsumae whilst opening the top of the cafetière to stir the grounds before pressing. Shuu accepts the towel from Matsumae, wiping his face, neck, and arms before ruffling his hair. It gives Matsumae time to shake out and hold the robe open for Shuu. Kanae depresses the plunger as Shuu sets the towel on his chair and accepts Matsumae's assistance with the robe.

"This -" Shuu starts as Matsumae folds the flaps of the robe over his chest.

"Indulge an old woman," Matsumae says.

It makes Shuu's brows draw together. "Matsumae," he protests as she ties the robe shut. "You aren't old."

"That's very kind of you, Tsukiyama-san," Matsumae says as Kanae begins pouring coffee.

Shuu stares at her as she steps away, his expression a complicated combination of annoyance, concern, and learned restraint. It's that last part that Kanae is still sometimes surprised to see, even though it's been part of Shuu for a couple years now. Shuu used to be so carefree. Kanae sets the coffee pot down. Sets out the two cups. One for Shuu. One for Kanae.

"Matsumae," Shuu says, very softly.

She looks up at him. She smiles a little, reaching up to rearrange his hair. Shuu dips his head and lets her comb her fingers deftly through his fringe and over the back of his skull. Kanae watches out the side of the eye. Kanae's line of sight should rightly be on the coffee and that alone.

"There now," Matsumae says, drawing her hands back to rest at her sides. "Don't you look handsome?"

Shuu laughs, a little wetly. He reaches up and wipes his eyes with the generous sleeve of the robe. Matsumae takes a step back. A clear cue that she should be dismissed. Shuu nods, waving his free hand in thanks and farewell. Matsumae turns and makes her way back up the path, leaving Kanae sitting with the cooling coffee and Shuu wiping his eyes with cotton sleeves.

"Sorry," Shuu whispers, breath hitching. "I need a moment."

He doesn't need to apologise, but Kanae understands why he does. Kanae turns attention fully to the coffee. Lifts the cup and appreciates the warmth it radiates. Kanae pretends not to listen to Shuu stifling his crying in the robe. Matsumae is sometimes mistaken for Shuu or Kanae's mother. Kanae doesn't really see her like that, but there's little doubt that Shuu sees her as something close to that. 

The fact of the matter is that, for a ghoul of Matsumae's station, she is getting old. She's in her forties, although Kanae isn't sure of exactly where. She's just beginning to pass out of her prime as a ghoul and a hunter, and she's very aware of it. Kanae doesn't believe for a moment that Shuu would allow her to be put out from the household, but it's nearing time to consider a replacement for her leadership in harvesting. 

Shuu breathes out. He turns and moves back to his chair. Sits down. Kanae looks to him as Shuu picks up his coffee. He sips it. Swallows. Holds the cup close to his chest. His eyes are still watery and are now well and truly red. He sniffs, blinking miserably before meeting Kanae's gaze. 

"Well," he says, very soft and sad, "there's that."

It makes all the blood drain out of Kanae's face. Mirumo and Shuu were arguing on Matsumae's place in the household. Kanae reaches, very carefully, to put the coffee cup down. Kanae is in danger of spilling it. Shuu hugs his cup to his chest, head dipping forward so far that his chin tucks against his neck. He stares straight into the liquid. 

"We're alone, _si_?"

Kanae nods. There's no one else in the greenhouse now, and Kanae cannot see anyone through the windows. Shuu doesn't move. His eyes are unfocused and faraway.

"There's something I've been asked to do," Shuu says, a low undertone. "A favour to the person who runs the safe haven in the 20th Ward. I'm sure you've heard: the area has been a bit unstable of late."

That is the rumour. The Binge Eater had mysteriously disappeared, and there was those strange reports of some one-eyed ghoul appearing right after. A Dove was killed. Kanae had wondered, perhaps unfairly, if Shuu was involved, but the timing of the Dove's death had turned out to be when Shuu was back here for a board meeting with ghoul and human investors in the healthcare field. He couldn't have been involved; Kanae knows this intimately because Shuu had spent the evening in the library staring at the same book until he fell asleep.

"Yoshimura-san has been kind," Shuu continues, and there's shame in his tone; he's had to take advantage of the safe haven in the past, then. "So I agreed. I'll be needed soon, but I'm not sure of exactly when. If Father and I have not resolved -"

"I'll watch over it," Kanae says. 

Shuu looks up at Kanae. He smiles, grateful and apologetic. 

"Sorry to ask this of you," he says, very softly.

Kanae's head shakes. "It is my interest as well."

The smile twitches. Wavers. Shuu lifts his coffee to his lips. Sips it. He blinks, eyes drifting from Kanae to the roses bushes. They're dormant for the winter. He stares at them for a long moment before his gaze shifts back to Kanae. Shuu's expression is one that Kanae doesn't recognise. 

"This coming year," Shuu says, and his voice is calm and very steady; it makes Kanae sit up straight. "I'm graduating from university. Uncle is getting married, too. No matter how highly Father thinks of me, I need Matsumae. I'm not..." and Shuu's lips lift, self-aware. " _Quatsch keine Opern_."

It makes Kanae laugh. A bit inappropriate, but from the evening of Shuu's smile, it's what he was going for. Outside, there's an audible wind. It's overcast. There will be rain in the afternoon, growing heavier in the evening. Shuu lifts his coffee to his lips. Takes a long sip.

"The coffee is very good."

Kanae reaches out. Picks up the cup. Lifts it to Kanae's lips. It's no longer hot. At a cooler temperature, it brings out the sweeter notes that turn quickly to bitterness on the back of the tongue. Kanae breathes out. 

"Yes," Kanae agrees, "it is."

 

Thursday dawns. Uncharacteristically, it passes Kaneki by because he sleeps through it. He wakes up lying curled up the couch, knees, lower legs, and feet tucked against Tsukiyama's as he continues sleeping curled up on the opposite end of the couch. Kaneki vaguely remembers shifting to lie down. Tsukiyama had been dozing sitting up at the point. Evidently, although Kaneki doesn't fully remember, someone draped blankets over them. Kaneki's is light, one of the regular throws. Someone went into Tsukiyama's room to get his comforter. Kaneki can only guess it was Banjou. He hopes it wasn't Hinami, since that means she would have had to wake up in the middle of the night.

It's still early. Kaneki glances up at the clock on the living room wall. Seven-twenty-three. Next to him, Tsukiyama is still asleep. Kaneki looks back to him. His lips are slightly parted, and his breathing is very slow and deep. There is a part of Kaneki that wants to reach out. Crawl over and blanket Tsukiyama. Nuzzle his cheek and capture his lips. There is another part, stronger although not by much, that holds him back. Kaneki doesn't know how Tsukiyama would react to a wake up call like that. He also fell asleep much later than Kaneki despite waking up earlier yesterday. He should sleep.

Kaneki shifts as carefully as possible to sit up. Tsukiyama breathes in sharply. Kaneki pauses as Tsukiyama curls up tighter, head slipping off the armrest and tucking into the comforter until all Kaneki can see is Tsukiyama's hair. He looks like a bizarre armadillo. It also signifies that he was probably not as deep asleep as Kaneki had thought before.

"Tsukiyama-san?"

A muffled noise, half-awake and questioning. Kaneki doesn't know whether to laugh or to kick him. Tsukiyama was awake the entire time. He probably was pretending to be asleep because Kaneki was staring at him.

Instead, Kaneki shakes his head and finishes sitting up. He reaches up and rubs his eyes. 

"Do you want coffee?"

A muffled but affirmative noise. Kaneki stands up. Tsukiyama has turned himself into a truly remarkable ball for someone his size. He almost fits onto a single cushion of the three seats on the couch. Kaneki shakes his head before heading to the kitchen.

Kaneki is just putting the lid back on the coffeemaker when Tsukiyama emerges from his comforter. He does so with an audible gust of a sigh, sitting up with the comforter held securely around himself. Kaneki watches his eyes wander to the clock. He frowns as if the time personally offends him before shaking his head. 

" _C'est un truc_ ," he mutters before looking at Kaneki across the living room. "Thank you for making coffee."

Kaneki shrugs. It's no problem. Kaneki doesn't always need coffee to get functioning in the morning, but he definitely feels like something warm and smooth this morning. Since he held back from Tsukiyama, coffee will have to suffice. Tsukiyama, on the other hand, does not function without coffee. Kaneki wonders, as he watches Tsukiyama stand up from the couch and gravitate towards the kitchen still wrapped in his comforter, if Tsukiyama started drinking coffee as a child. Considering Hinami drinks coffee and Kaneki has overhear her commenting on various qualities regarding it, it must be something ghoul children start fairly early. It suppresses hunger.

Tsukiyama pulls out one of the stools. He sits down, adjusting the comforter to come up over his head. He gazes around Kaneki at the coffeemaker as if staring at the pot will make it fill faster. Kaneki leans his elbows on his side of the counter.

"Did you sleep much?"

He watches Tsukiyama breathe in, deep and full. "Not really," Tsukiyama sighs, but it isn't negative. "Which grounds did you use?"

They have three different canisters of prepared grounds. "The Antigua."

It's the one everyone prefers in the morning. Tsukiyama smiles sleepily before dipping forward to rest his head on the counter. It's really very comical. Kaneki resists the urge to reach out and pat where he knows the top of Tsukiyama's head is underneath the comforter. Instead, he turns back to the coffeemaker to open the cabinet above it to retrieve mugs. 

That is how Hinami finds them when she emerges from her room already dressed. She crosses the living room, staring at Tsukiyama who may have fallen asleep at the counter, before visibly shrugging and joining Kaneki in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Kaneki-niisan," she says, very softly. "Did you and Tsukiyama-san sleep well?"

She was the one to came and put their respective blankets on them. Kaneki feels himself colouring. He nods. She smiles, reaching across to retrieve a third mug for herself. Kaneki busies himself with pouring coffee, muttering something he hopes counts as a morning greeting. 

Hinami accepts her mug with a nod and another smile. Kaneki picks up his and one of Tsukiyama, turning to the counter where Tsukiyama is still lying on it. He sets the mug in front of Tsukiyama's head before pulling out a stool to sit down himself. Hinami draws out the stool next to Kaneki, settling down and inhaling the scent of her coffee. It's something Tsukiyama does. Kaneki can't remember if Hinami always used to do that or if it's something she's picked up from him. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Hinami says, amusement in her eyes and tone, "you shouldn't sleep like that."

It earns her a faintly annoyed noise. Tsukiyama sits up, blinking at Hinami, Kaneki, and then the coffee. His right hand emerges from the comforter for his mug.

"Good morning," he mumbles before lifting the coffee and inhaling.

They sit for a while in comfortable silence taking morning coffee. Hinami finishes hers first, setting the mug down on the counter. It doesn't make any noise. Something else she's picked up from Tsukiyama. She looks down at the cup for a long moment before breathing in. Preparing herself. 

"Kaneki-niisan," she says, looking to him with an expression at once tentative and determined, "may I ask a favour of you?"

Kaneki feels his brows furrow. "Of course," he says; Hinami should know she may ask anything of him. "What is it?"

She doesn't break eye contact. "Could you not..." her voice wavers, giving away her nerves, but she keeps her gaze steady and her body contained. "Could you not eat as you usually do, just for this week? It's very selfish of me to ask, but we have a lot of food this time, and since we're going to Obon, I--maybe this is hypocritical, we are what we are, but I..."

Hinami trails off, eyes dropping down to her empty coffee mug and lips pursing. Kaneki's heart is in his throat, threatening to choke him. Hinami swallows.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, clasping her mug tightly. "It's not my place to ask."

It breaks Kaneki's heart. "No," he says, and it's a croak; it makes her look at him with wide, too bright eyes. "I can do that."

Hinami blinks. She turns away, reaching up hastily to rub her eyes. Kaneki looks away. Trying to give her privacy. His throat is burning. He makes the mistake of looking across the counter at Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama isn't looking at either of them. He's looking down and off to the side, much like he did when he was drunk and Banjou fed him. He's gone away. It's hard to say if he's done it deliberately to give them privacy or if it's something else.

"Thank you," Hinami says, very wobbly.

Kaneki turns his attention back to her. She's looking down at her lap where she's placed her hands. She's wearing the skirt Tsukiyama bought for her a while ago. Lily of the valley. It's easily her favourite as Kaneki has seen her wear it at least once a week since she got it. 

She doesn't, Kaneki thinks lowly, deserve to live like this. It's that thought that unsticks his throat. Gives him back his tongue.

"You're welcome."

Hinami tries to smile. It's a good effort, but her eyes are still too bright. She blinks and turns away, sliding off the stool. She takes her cup to the sink, setting it down with her head bowed forward just enough that her hair falls into her face.

"I need to finish getting ready for the day," Hinami says into the sink. "I'll wash this later."

She doesn't wait for a response. Hurries back across the living room to her room. She doesn't shut the door, but it's more than obvious that she needs some space. Kaneki swallows, staring at the open door. Out of the side of Kaneki's eye, he can see that Tsukiyama hasn't moved. Hasn't reacted. It's not just an act then. He's completely disconnected from the situation. 

_Instead of a person who hurts others, become a person who gets hurt._

Once upon a time, that was the type of person Kaneki was. Now, Kaneki is someone who hurts others. There's no way around that truth. Not when Hinami is afraid to ask him something like that, which is really very simple. Not when Tsukiyama, who stays with them instead of going home to a place he fears, still ends up going away mentally. Not when Banjou has to go back and forth between everyone, keeping an eye upon the atmosphere to keep everything from boiling over.

Kaneki lifts his coffee to his lip. Sips. It's cool. Kaneki cannot taste it. He slides off his stool and goes to the sink. Hinami's empty mug is in there. Kaneki moves it aside, pouring out the last of his coffee. His heart pounds in his ears.

Kaneki turns. Walks across the living room. He turns down the hall towards the balcony at the end of it. They rarely use the balcony besides to hang up clothes to dry. Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante use it a bit more, which makes sense as it's attached to their room. Kaneki unlocks the door. Steps out. He doesn't remember the last time he used it for anything more than hanging up and retrieving laundry. There's a folding chair that's open, facing out into the street. 

Kaneki sits. Stares out over the street. It's still early in the day. It's very quiet. 

He puts his face in his hands. Breathes in.

_What is 1000 minus 7?_

 

**Christmas, 8 Months Ago**

It is very quiet early Christmas morning.

Despite having spent half a lifetime in the Tsukiyama household, Kanae finds this eerie. Once upon a time, Christmas had been a joyous occasion, full of family and light and sound. The von Rosewald family hadn't been secular as most other ghoul families, but the celebration had been a time to get together and have fun. There had been a warmth, back in those increasingly distant memories, that Kanae cannot really associate with anything now.

"Kanae," Shuu yawns, coffee in hand. "Did your wardrobe arrive on time?"

Kanae nods, smile coming easy. They're in Shuu's personal reception room that is adjacent to his bedroom. They'd have probably taken coffee in Shuu's bedroom if it wasn't for the fact that when Kanae came up with the tray Shuu was asleep on the large couch under his blanket. Shuu came back late last night after Kanae had already gone to bed. Apparently Matsumae was forced to humour Shuu and his growing propensity for sleeping on couches instead of beds.

"Yes, I love it," Kanae says, and there's no reason to hide the enthusiasm and gratefulness since it was Shuu's gift. "Thank you so much."

Shuu smiles back before taking a deep sip of his coffee. He sets the cup and saucer down on the coffee table before settling back on the couch. His blankets are tangled up around his legs and the soft microfiber one pulled around his shoulders. He yawns, a right hand coming up to hide his mouth. 

"Oh, excuse me," he says, rubbing the small tears out of the sides of his eyes. 

Kanae hums lightly. It's no harm done, even though Shuu should really use a handkerchief or even one of the cloth napkins with the coffee. There's nothing wrong to using his hands, but he shouldn't rub his eyes. Kanae sometimes wonders if sending Shuu away to high school rather than continuing to homeschool him contributed to Shuu's strange mixture of manners. 

"Have you," Shuu starts as he drops his hands back into the blanket and slouches slightly into the warmth, "decided what outfits you'll wear for receiving guests, dinner, and soirée?"

This is exactly why Kanae wanted to be the one to take up Shuu's morning coffee instead of Matsumae. Ostensibly, it is to give Matsumae a lie-in as she had had a late night, but Matsumae is well aware that Kanae likely has other reasons. Despite the generally positive work environment in the Tsukiyama household, no one is particularly known for generosity. That's the providence of Shuu. Mirumo can be generous as well, although his reasons are often far more opaque.

"I was informed by Mirumo-san that I would be attending in the capacity as a servant."

Shuu looks up sharply, all the relaxed sleepiness evaporating as his expression turns into a harsh scowl. He sits up straight, feet sliding off the couch for the first time and hitting the ground.

"What?" Shuu asks, indignant and flabbergast. "Of _course_ not."

Kanae had expected this reaction. It's the only reason Kanae doesn't instinctively recoil at the undertone of anger in Shuu's words. It's not directed at Kanae. On the couch, Shuu blows out a sigh. He reaches up, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

"No," he says, looking directly at Kanae, eyes bright and focused and alert. "You will attend alongside me. We should match. Let's finish our coffee. We have a lot to do."

It's a powerplay, Kanae understands, even Shuu doesn't see it as such. Kanae smiles, heart hammering with pleasure and reassurance. 

"Yes," Kanae murmurs, "we do."

It is no secret that Shuu favours Kanae. It's well-known in the upper-class ghoul community that Shuu has taken particular interest in Kanae since Kanae's first hunt. Human business associates know that if they receive Shuu instead of Mirumo, which has been happening more frequently, Kanae will likely be accompanying. They've never appeared together, though, in this sort of capacity. 

"The heirs of our houses," Shuu says as he opens his wardrobe to pull on something to wear; he cannot go down to Kanae's quarters in the ridiculous pink sleep shirt he's wearing. "You are von Rosewald."

Kanae has no lands nor wealth, but it's the pride of the name that Shuu is getting at. In a lot of ways, Kanae thinks as Shuu pulls on athletic pants and strips out of his sleepshirt, pride is all Kanae really has. That and Shuu and the place that Kanae holds beside him. 

Shuu pulls on a white sweatshirt with a black logo emblazoned in front. Kanae holds out several hair pins. Shuu takes them, sweeping aside his fringe and pinning it. He glances into the mirror of the wardrobe. An unsettled, faintly disgusted expression passes briefly over his face before he turns away, motioning for Kanae to follow. They head out of Shuu's room and downstairs to the servants quarters. 

"Have we had confirmation of the final guest list?"

"No," Kanae says as they walk towards the kitchens, which are already bustling, "but when I last saw it yesterday afternoon, it's much the same as last year."

"About a hundred and fifty," Shuu mutters, fingers coming up to tap his lip as they move carefully through the hectic preparations of human and ghoul food.

Kanae nods. Tries to ignore the looks they're getting as they pass through. Shuu used to come down to the kitchen fairly often, but he's a rare sight these days and not just because he doesn't really live here. It's the shortest route to the servants quarters, though, and Mirumo never comes down to the kitchens, so Kanae doesn't blame Shuu for choosing to come this way. It would be inopportune to run into Mirumo until guests begin arrive in the afternoon.

They pass into the hall. Kanae's room is on the right. It has a view of the front gates and gardens. It used to, Kanae has heard, be Setsuna's room, Mirumo's childhood caretaker who remained in the household until her death as head cook. It makes Mirumo's ambivalence towards Matsumae very strange. While it's true that Matsumae's function as Shuu's caretaker has long been outgrown and that she's passing out of her hunting prime, she still has many functions she could fulfil in the household. Matsumae is particularly good at organising people and has an excellent memory for names and relationships. If she simply became a manager in the household, that would be valuable enough in Kanae's opinion. The Tsukiyama household and its connections do not lack for personality.

Perhaps, Kanae thinks uncertainly, Kanae should make this option clear to Shuu. It would give Shuu a solid platform to argue from. Kanae isn't sure if this oversteps their boundaries, though. For now, it'll just be a thought.

Shuu goes to the window, looking out at the gates and gardens. Kanae moves to the wardrobe, opening it and withdrawing the outfits that arrived earlier in the week. Kanae sets about laying out the favourites on the bed. 

"Shuu-sama, I have the jewelry in my box and in the first drawer of my dresser. Do you want to see it?"

"Oh, of course," Shuu says, visibly shaking himself from his contemplation of the thin layer of snow over everything outside. "Did it not all fit in the box?"

Kanae withdraws a suit in morning grey before putting it back; how unfestive. "I've run out of room," Kanae admits, selecting instead a dark purple organza evening dress.

"I like that one," Shuu says as he crosses over to open the jewelry box and dresser. "It would match what I'm wearing for dinner."

Kanae stands on tiptoes to hang the dress from the canopy rod over the bed. "What are you wearing exactly?"

Shuu lifts out the Dior jewelry bag from the dresser. It's the necklace, a gold rose studded with emeralds. Kanae watches as Shuu unwraps it, turning the heavy pendant over in his palm. He looks up, first to Kanae and then to the dress. 

"Suits," he says, a little distantly, obviously envisioning something that isn't quite complete and attempting to complete it in his head. "Tom Ford for receiving, Dior at dinner, and Canali for soirée."

It makes Kanae frown a little bit in thought. "The Canali is burgundy, isn't it?"

An affirmative murmur. Shuu steps forward, hooking the necklace around the head of the hanger to achieve a bit of the effect if Kanae was wearing it all together. Kanae moves around to face the dress in front, unconsciously placing hands on hips as Shuu does the same. They stare at the dress and the necklace for a long moment.

"Yes," they says at exactly the same time.

It makes Shuu laugh and Kanae snort. They'll work on shoes after they sort out the other two outfits. Kanae misses being able to wear shorts. It's always so warm during these parties, but Kanae isn't a child anymore. A cocktail dress is a possibility for soirée, but that might give people the wrong idea. 

"I'm going to roast."

Shuu pops his head out of the wardrobe, a wiry smile on his face before turning back. "Help me escape outside on occasion and you'll be fine."

Kanae considers a gold and diamond Buccellati cuff bracelet for matching Shuu's Canali. "I believe there will be a heated pavilion set up by the greenhouse, so we would be safer going back into the kitchens."

It makes Shuu groan. "Father did that on purpose, didn't he," he gripes, pulling out the Balenciaga suit. "How about this for receiving?"

Kanae raises an eyebrow. "It's not too dull?"

A long pause as Shuu looks back over it, to Kanae, back to the suit. Shuu frowns.

"Well, no more than mine," he says, very thoughtful. "Maybe we can spice it up with something."

Jewelry or makeup, although since this is for reception, probably not the make up. It's a pain to reapply more than twice during the night, and there's often more time between dinner and soirée because many guests appreciate time to rest a bit then. Perhaps, Kanae thinks, earring. Unfortunately, Kanae doesn't have pierced ears, so they're all clip ons, which just don't lend to the same elegant feeling. Piercings are fairly troublesome for ghouls, and it's not appropriate for those of their station. 

"How about these?"

Gold Tiffany cufflinks with hematite. Shuu moves over from the wardrobe, holding out the dress shirt's arm to match against the cuff. He tilts his head, humming.

"I suppose that will have to do," he says with a nod, straightening. "I guess the mood of the evening will be to progressively blow them away. We can't be beating everyone into the ground early..."

Kanae snorts. Plucks out the cufflinks and hands them to Shuu to tuck into the suit jacket's right pocket. Shuu hangs the suit on the canopy rod, smoothing the fabric absentmindedly. It reminds Kanae.

"If," Kanae starts as Shuu moves back to the wardrobe, "Mirumo-san -"

"Don't worry about Father," Shuu says.

Kanae's heart clenches. Shuu doesn't turn from the wardrobe, a clear indication that this is not a topic that will be discussed. Kanae takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Shuu reaches up and moves several outfits to the left.

But then Shuu sighs. His shoulder sag momentarily before he withdraws the embellished Yves St Laurent dress. He turns around. Holds the dress by the handler in his right hand. His left hangs at his side. It should be a bizarre juxtaposition, Shuu in athletic pants and sweatshirt hold a 47 thousand yen dress. It isn't. Not with the look on Shuu's face. Serious. Focused. Certain.

"He's my father. I will handle him."

Kanae nods. Shuu turns his attention to the dress. Plucks a small bit of fuzz off the black velvet and flicks it aside. Kanae steps forward. To Shuu's side. Kanae looks up. Shuu looks so grown up. 

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, very softly, "thank you. This is a very good Christmas." 

The smile that breaks over Shuu's face is so wide that it parts his lips enough that his teeth show. He looks down at Kanae like that before he catches himself, bringing his free hand up to cover his teeth. There's still a pensive air about him, but he's happy and pleased. His eyes are full of light.

"Oh," he says, very softly and into his hand, "I'm glad."

 

It's hot outside.

This should have been obvious, but Kaneki hadn't really been thinking about it when he went out onto the balcony. Kaneki, in all honesty, isn't sure if he was thinking about anything when he came out here. Normally, he would have gone down to the basement. Shadow-boxing. Push-ups. Slamming his head into the ground. Something other than sitting out here in the heat, sweating in his pajamas.

Kaneki looks down at his hands. The palms are sticky with sweat. His fingers are callused, and the nails are discoloured. His knuckles are callused as well. Kaneki cracks them. One by one. The sound reverberates in his ears.

_748\. 741. 734._

Kaneki has become a bad person. He's cruel and harsh. He hurts people, both intentionally and unintentionally. He disregards their independence. He tramples on their generosity. He violates them and himself with all the ugly, brutal, insidious things that live underneath his skin. It's him. Kaneki is the problem.

In a way, Kaneki has always known this. It's why Kaneki pushed Hide away. Why he wouldn't let Touka join him. Hide and Touka: they have no way to protect themselves, not from the type of person Kaneki has become. They are strong people, but they are good, and a person like Kaneki, who carries a black spot, will only drag them down. At least Kaneki was able to see that.

Kaneki is selfish. There are things that he wants, goals he wishes to achieve, and he has to use people to get there. He needs people like Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante, who know the atrocities of Aogiri Tree and understand why Kaneki has to take them down. He needs Banjou to know when he's crossed the line, to remind him there's something else other than what Yamori turned him into. He needs Tsukiyama for all that Tsukiyama provides, but it's more than that. He needs Tsukiyama to have something for himself, to remind Kaneki that he can feel more than just hatred and rage so strong it makes him crazy. Tsukiyama, despite being the most _ghoul_ of their group, is the only person that reminds Kaneki what it was like to feel human.

But Hinami: she is Kaneki's most selfish choice. Kaneki has always known this, deep down inside. Hinami was sheltered as much as a ghoul could be for much of her life. Her parents did their best, and they were good parents, but they died, leaving her behind with only the clothes on her back. She doesn't even have a photograph of her parents. Just memories and a notebook that's run out of pages that her mother's handwriting appears in for the first few pages. She would have been much safer, staying with Touka and Anteiku, but Kaneki took her with him into this house with no plans besides revenge.

It's no surprise that she and Tsukiyama have ended up becoming so close. Tsukiyama provides everything. He's brought her textbooks and contributes to her education not just academically but practically. He teaches her how to cut and prepare meat safely, how to identify if food has spoiled, how to store it for emergency or future use. Kaneki has overheard them discuss mending of clothing, watched Tsukiyama demonstrate how to hem skirts and trousers. He's taught Hinami how act while shopping, shown her how to cook a few human food dishes. These are skills Hinami will need, even if she never has to become a ghoul in the manner that everyone else in the house is.

Hinami won't be a little girl forever. Perhaps she isn't. She hasn't been, not since Ryouko died. Kaneki covered Hinami's eyes. Hinami's hearing is her most acute sense. She heard everything. Kaneki couldn't protect her. He never could.

_I am -_

A knock. Once. Twice. Evenly spaced. Not too hard. Very polite. Kaneki looks up. Behind. The hallway door.

"Tsukiyama-san?"

The door opens. Tsukiyama lets himself onto the balcony. He's dressed, plain short sleeves and checkerboard trousers. He holds a glass of blood with ice in his hand. He shuts the door. He stands for a moment on the doormat, looking at Kaneki with a calm expression. Placid. He's closed off.

"If," he says, level and very reasonable, "you're going to abide by Hinami-chan, you should drink this."

He holds out the glass. Kaneki looks at it. The ice bobs in the blood, clinking against the glass. It has a different consistency than water or coffee. It's more like juice. Tsukiyama is watching him. Essentially expressionless.

Kaneki reaches up. Takes the glass. He sits back in the chair. It's very cold in his hands. In the summer heat, it's very pleasant. Kaneki is very careful not to inhale as he brings it to his lips. Gulps it. It tastes delicious. Like orange juice. Tsukiyama moves to the balcony railing, leaning on his elbows to look down onto the street.

"I was born very premature," Tsukiyama says as Kaneki forces himself to keep drinking, "so I used to have to drink a lot of blood. Han-sensei remembers that very clearly as she's been the family's doctor since I was born, so I think that's why she gave the blood bags."

Kaneki swallows. Tsukiyama's hands hang out over the railing, dangling downwards. In that position, Kaneki can see he holds his hands like a pianist's, long fingers and palms gently curved. 

"Does she think you're ill?"

Tsukiyama doesn't respond immediately. His eyes are tracking something on the ground. There's faint voices. Children. Maybe they're playing football.

"Han-sensei thinks a lot of things," Tsukiyama says. 

That doesn't answer Kaneki's question at all. Tsukiyama turns around. He leans his back on the railing and faces Kaneki. He crosses his arms, thumbs hooked on the inside of his elbows. On anyone else, it would be a defensive position. Tsukiyama is perfectly capable of repressing it. That he's telegraphing some defensiveness lets Kaneki know that Tsukiyama wants Kaneki to see it. He's allowing Kaneki to read him, at least a little bit. 

"If we aren't going to be hunting this week," Tsukiyama says, and he keeps his eyes on Kaneki's, deliberately not looking at the glass of blood or anything else, "I would like to have Kanae join us for Obon. Kanae doesn't often get off the estate, and Kanae is..."

Something shutters in Tsukiyama. It's not just his face or his eyes. It's his entire being. He looks away. Up the street. The sound of a child yelling out in victory sounds from below. There's a lot of laughter. A few hoots. Someone must have scored.

"I would be grateful," Tsukiyama says, addressing the cloudless sky, "if you could allow Kanae this."

Kaneki lifts the glass to his lips. Doesn't breathe. He gulps it until it's empty, the ice cold as they knock against his lip and front teeth. Kaneki breathes out in a gust, sitting back in the folding chair. Tsukiyama doesn't look at him. Kaneki sucks in a breath. The air is heavy and humid. It isn't even noon.

"Yeah," Kaneki says, and his voice is raw, like he's been screaming; his kakugan throbs. "That would be fine."

Tsukiyama's head whips around. He stares at Kaneki, eyes large and alert. His hands have closed over his elbows, shoulder set and straight. Tsukiyama had expected to be denied. So had Hinami. Kaneki wishes he could turn back the clock.

"Oh," Tsukiyama says, a small noise, before he recovers, standing up straight and dropping his left hand back to his side and extending his right. "Thank you very much. I'll take that in for you, Kaneki-san."

Kaneki nods. Passes the glass over. Tsukiyama holds it for a moment, his eyes flickering back and forth over Kaneki's face. Kaneki gazes back. He doesn't know what Tsukiyama is looking for. It doesn't seem like Tsukiyama found it either because he turns away without further comment. Opens the door and steps back inside. Shuts it. He was barefoot, Kaneki realises suddenly. Inanely.

Very slowly, Kaneki stands up. He moves to the railing, lifting his left hand to cover his kakugan. He looks down at the street. The kids who had stared at him on his way to the cornershop are kicking their ball around, playing a game that doesn't appear to have any real rules. Kaneki has no memories like this, playing with others unsupervised, unafraid, and carefree. Kaneki doubts Hinami has any such memories. Tsukiyama's observation hadn't held any familiarity. 

If Tsukiyama doesn't have these memories, it's doubtful Kanae has any. Kanae is someone Tsukiyama wants to protect. The world that Tsukiyama comes from is a ghoul's world through and through, brutal in a way that breeds people Kaneki suspects are supposed to be much crueler than Tsukiyama is. Tsukiyama can't protect Kanae from everything, much like Kaneki cannot protect Hinami from himself. From fear, death, and loneliness. From the reality of this world. 

Kaneki closes his eyes. Rests his head in his palm. Sweat drips into it. Pooling.

Maybe it's not about protection. It's not about hurting others or getting hurt. It's about love and showing others you care.


	12. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A ghoul restaurant," Tsukiyama says. "I used to work there."

Tsukiyama is cooking when Kaneki comes back into the house. It's not the scent of food that alerts Kaneki to this. Rather, it's Tsukiyama humming.

The living room is empty. Kaneki isn't sure where everyone is. All the bedroom doors are shut, but that doesn't necessarily mean everyone else is in. Tsukiyama doesn't turn, completely engrossed in his work. He's wearing his apron and disposable plastic gloves. He has headphones on and is humming along to whatever he has playing as he trims fat and leftover bits of skin from the ribcage. Kaneki stands for a long moment in the hallway, wiping sweat off his face and brow with the back of his hand.

"Tsukiyama-san."

Tsukiyama stops humming. He shakes his head sharply. It makes the headphones slip off his head and fall around his neck as he twists around to look at Kaneki, eyebrows raised and expression questioning. 

"Hello, Kaneki-san," he says, blinking and smiling, a little confused. "Is there something you need?"

Kaneki crosses the living room, pointing at the sink to indicate water. "Is anyone else home?"

Tsukiyama shakes his head. He finishes trimming skin from the ribs. Dumps the strip in the plastic bag he's got in the food scrap holder. Kaneki takes a glass from the drying rack. Fills it from the faucet. He gulps it down. It's lukewarm from the cold tap, but that's to be expected in this kind of weather. Kaneki reaches out to fill the glass a second time.

"Where did they go?"

"Daiei," Tsukiyama says, setting the scissors to the side and opening the knife drawer for extract the cleaver. "They should be back soon. It was just to pick up more freezer bags."

For whatever reason, the nearby corner shop doesn't stock freezer bags. Kaneki sips the second glass of water as Tsukiyama sets about chopping the ribs. It's a sharp, swift downwards motion that cracks through bone if needed. Kaneki hastily looks away. Back to the living room. Kaneki's blanket is still on the couch. Tsukiyama's has presumably been returned to his room. They're quiet aside from the sound of meat being chopped.

Perhaps against his better judgement, Kaneki looks back. Tsukiyama brings the cleaver down, sectioning off another rib. It's not a particularly meaty rib cage, Kaneki thinks. The thought slides against something inside of Kaneki's brain. Kaneki looks away again. The living room. It's very interesting.

"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki says, and he can hear the weakness in his voice; he wouldn't be able to say this if anyone else was home. "I don't think I can eat that."

The cleaver comes down again. There's a softer noise. The cleaver being set aside. 

"You don't have to," Tsukiyama says; there's a scraping noise, like Tsukiyama is cleaning the board. "A couple of glasses of blood a day will do."

Something in Tsukiyama's voice makes Kaneki look back at him. Tsukiyama has picked up one of the sectioned ribs. He's turning it in his gloved hands, handling like it's something very fragile. His kakugan are showing. It makes his skin look unnaturally pale. 

"Tsukiyama-san?"

Tsukiyama swallows. He's salivating. Kaneki risks an inhale. The entire kitchen smells utterly delicious. It makes Kaneki's kakugan throb. The only thing keeping Kaneki's own hunger from kicking in is Tsukiyama's scent. He doesn't smell hungry. He smells odd. Sour. He's not salivating because he's hungry. He's about to throw up. 

Very carefully, Tsukiyama puts the rib down. 

"Kaneki-san," he says, and it's tight and more than a little high, "please move away from the sink."

Kaneki moves immediately. Tsukiyama tilts violently, catching himself on the edge of the counter, and just manages to vomit into the sink. Kaneki sets his half-drunken glass of water down, reaching out instinctively to steady Tsukiyama as he retches. He doesn't have much to throw up. It's clear. Just sour water and stomach acid.

Shit, Kaneki thinks, more than a little wildy. Tsukiyama makes a pained noise, head dipping further forward. His entire body is shaking. Kaneki is afraid he's going to fall.

"You should -"

Tsukiyama retches. Not much comes up. Just a little more water and a few dark splotches. Kaneki really hopes that's bile. Kaneki clenches his jaw so hard his teeth squeak.

"Shit," Tsukiyama whispers. 

His knees go out under him. Kaneki tries his best to guide Tsukiyama down onto the kitchen tile. His hands remain overhead, holding onto the counter. Tsukiyama rests his forehead against the cabinet, eyes squeezed shut. There's a few tears on his face, although whether he's actually crying or it's just the body's reaction to vomiting is uncertain. 

"Shit," he says again, softer. "Shit _shit_ -"

"What?" Kaneki asks, and he's far too loud, heart pounding in his ears. "What -"

"Give," Tsukiyama says, the fragile tone from before, "me a moment."

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama lets go of the counter, his legs folding under himself. Centering himself. He pulls off the gloves, turning the second inside out to create a sanitary bag for them. He doesn't open his eyes or lift his forehead from where it rests. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama tie the plastic up. Set it on the floor. Tsukiyama lifts his hands. Cups over his ears. He begins running his fingers through the back of his hair. Self-comforting. It's all so practiced. Kaneki's stomach twists. This has happened before.

" _Un_ ," Tsukiyama whispers, barely audible. " _Deux. Trois. Quatre_ -"

French. Numbers. Oh. Kaneki's stomach is a rock. He keeps his hands on Tsukiyama's shoulders. There are tears escaping Tsukiyama's eyes. Tsukiyama is crying. 

" _Neuf. Dix. Onze. Douze. Treize_ -"

He sucks in a long breath. Blows it out. Continues counting. It's a very calm, very placid tone. He's working on repressing whatever has overwhelmed him. Kaneki doesn't know what to do. Numbers backwards by seven from a thousand jumble at the front of Kaneki's brain. That won't help Tsukiyama. It doesn't help Kaneki. It never has. 

The image of a roulette wheel. A checkerboard room. Kaneki bites his lip.

Kaneki lifts a hand. He reaches up. Out. Touches his fingertips to the crown of Tsukiyama's head. Tsukiyama's _vingt-et-un_ hitches. He likes having his hair stroked. Kaneki runs his fingertips over it. Careful not to press too hard to touch where Tsukiyama's fingers rest at the back of his neck. Tsukiyama doesn't pull away. Kaneki repeats the motion. It allows Tsukiyama to draw a long, shaky breath. He breathes out, very shallow.

" _D'accord,_ " Tsukiyama whispers, fingers starting to draw circles on the back of his skull, self-soothing. " _C'est un truc. Ce qui est fait n'est plus à faire._ "

It draws a laugh out of Kaneki, inappropriate and more than a little hysterical. "I," Kaneki starts, voice cracking, "didn't understand a word of that."

A soft huff. Maybe it's supposed to be a laugh. Tsukiyama sniffs. He removes his hands from his head to wipe at his eyes. Nose. Mouth. He doesn't open his eyes. He's very pale, almost grey. Kaneki continues stroking his hair. It's soft and very thick. Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama needs to get it trimmed.

Tsukiyama opens his eyes. His kakugan aren't active. He blinks a couple of times, staring at the cabinet. Kaneki waits. A very poor imitation of patience.

"Okay," Tsukiyama says, very soft and very weak. "Okay."

He stands up. Kaneki does as well, drawing his hands back to himself. Tsukiyama sniffs. He turns on the faucet over the sink and takes the hand soap. Washing his hands. Kaneki wants so badly to say something, but he doesn't know what to say. He leans down instead to pick up the balled up disposable gloves. Kaneki straightens up and puts them in the bin. When he looks back, Tsukiyama is drying his hands on the hand towel on the dish rack. There's a couple of locks of hair out of place from where Kaneki was stroking.

"What -"

"Bone cancer," Tsukiyama says, opening the drawer that the disposable gloves and Clorox wipes are kept in. "We can't eat that. Eating cancer-affected meat is like getting food poisoning."

Kaneki's stomach sinks. "So all of that -"

"I have to throw it out," Tsukiyama says, pulling on a pair of the gloves; he sounds as dull and disappointed as Kaneki has ever heard him. "The whole body. Bone cancer spreads very quickly. It's better safe than sorry."

It's Kaneki's turn to rub his eyes and sigh. A fourth body would have tided them over into next week with their usual habits, or it could have allowed Banjou and Tsukiyama to eat well even with Kaneki sharing. Now -

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and he's picked up the cleaver again, "could you get out a fresh refuse bag? I'll dispose of all of this on my way to pick up Kanae later tonight."

"Yeah," Kaneki says; he opens the cabinet under the sink. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Tsukiyama doesn't respond immediately; he's busy cleaving the rest of the ribs. Kaneki pulls a bag off the roll. Shakes the plastic out. It's good quality, the plastic thick and with a built in drawstring. Kaneki has never really thought about it, but the quality is probably quite important, considering what they have in their trash.

"Maybe," Tsukiyama says, setting down the cleaver and reaching out to tie up the small scrap bag. "Actually," he says, looking up briefly at the ceiling and grimacing, "yes. If someone comes with me, I'll have an excuse to hurry. I have a few other things to arrange, and I don't want to make Kanae wait out for too long."

Kaneki makes a ring of the open bag on the counter where they usually take coffee and meals like he's seen Tsukiyama and Hinami do when they have a lot of waste to sort through. "Where is it?"

A short pause. Kaneki turns around. Tsukiyama is facing him, hands full of meat and bones. He looks straight at Kaneki. His expression is unreadable.

"A ghoul restaurant," he says. "I used to work there." 

Kaneki blinks. He remembers Tsukiyama commenting in the past on a ghoul restaurant, but he'd described it differently. Provisions. Banjou had mentioned bad blood, but Tsukiyama had laughed. His involvement had seemed voluntary.

"It was a job?"

It is surprising. With Tsukiyama's family being as wealthy as it is, he doesn't need to work. Not at a restaurant. Tsukiyama looks down. At the ribs. 

"Yes," he says, crossing over to set them in the bag Kaneki has prepared; he turns away again before continuing. "I was very popular."

It's that strange tone of voice. The one he used to talk about Burberry coats. He's not actually enthusiastic about the discussion. He's just talking to lead. To make noise. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama scoop up the rest of the ribs and the scrap bag. The unreadable expression softens as he finishes with that. He stands for a moment while stripping of the disposable gloves, a pensive air settling over him as he moves over to the refrigerator.

Kaneki pulls out a stool. Sits down. Tsukiyama kneels down, pulling out the packaged meat on the bottom shelf. From the crisper. Kaneki winces as the pile grows. The amount of meat that they're going to have to throw out is obscene. Tsukiyama sighs, reaching up and pushing his fringe out of his eyes. Kaneki leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What do you mean by popular?"

The muscles in Tsukiyama's back go completely tense just as the front door opens. Kaneki wants to curse as Tsukiyama automatically turns, his face turning into a cheerful, welcoming smile. It's fake.

"Welcome home," Tsukiyama says, warm and enthusiastic.

Kneeling on the kitchen tile in his apron, packaged meat in hand, and smiling like that: he's utterly beautiful. If Kaneki was the one coming through the door, he would be completely fooled, even though there's a garbage bag on the counter and a pile of meat on the floor. Kaneki wouldn't think to question such a cheerful version of Tsukiyama, especially in such a non-threatening, unassuming pose.

"Hello to you, too," Banjou says, a little bemused.

Kaneki looks to the door. Banjou was the one who opened the door. He's just stepping out of it, his eyes taking in the scene with more than a little suspicion. Hinami, Jiro, Sante, and Ichime pour in from behind, toeing off their shoes. They have several bags with them, far more than just freezer bags. 

"Hello, Tsukiyama-san, Kaneki-niisan," Hinami says, very cheerfully; it strikes Kaneki like a lightning bolt that she's able to pull off the same sort of deception as Tsukiyama. "Why is all the meat out?"

"Ah," Tsukiyama says, and he laughs, too loud to be natural, "contamination issue."

"Tsukiyama-san discovered bone cancer in the ribcage."

Everyone looks at Kaneki. Identical expression of surprise. Kaneki tries his best not to recoil. He doesn't manage completely. Has he really been so disconnected? That no one expects him to take interest in the necessities of the household: it really drives home how removed Kaneki has been from their lives. 

Hinami recovers first, although it means her face falls in disappointment. "Oh, no," she says, crossing over to look into the trash bag with the ribs. "And that was so promising..."

Tsukiyama shifts. Turning back into the refrigerator. Banjou and Sante cross over to stand in the lip of the kitchen that faces the entranceway while Ichimi and Jiro move over to the living room couches. Sante steps into the kitchen, unloading the freezer bag packet and a couple of disposable tupperware. Banjou hovers over Tsukiyama, who has just finished cleaning out the crisper. It was a large body. Tsukiyama tilts his head back. Looking up at Banjou. It makes them look like works of art.

Banjou frowns, crossing his arms across his chest. "You smell sour."

Tsukiyama blinks. The refrigerator makes a clicking noise followed by humming. Compensating for the loss of coolness with the open door. It draws Tsukiyama's attention back. He shifts on his knees so that he can shut the door. Banjou uncrosses his arms, left hand drifting forward to brush the flat of his fingers against Tsukiyama's hair. Tsukiyama stops moving. 

"Take a break," Banjou says, very low; his hand opens, the pads of his fingers brushing over Tsukiyama's hair. "I'll clean this up."

There's a very long silence. Kaneki feels like a voyeur. He glances to the side only to find Hinami watching very intently. She doesn't look like she has any intention of looking away. Hinami has very good manners. Kaneki looks back in time to see Tsukiyama push himself to his feet. Banjou draws his hand away, but they're standing close enough that they would be able to share body heat. Kaneki resists the urge to say something. To clench his hands. This jealousy -

"I'll dispose of it in about three hours," Tsukiyama says, passing around Banjou. "Double bag it. I don't want it leaking in my car."

"Yeah," Banjou says as Tsukiyama crosses the living room, going to his bedroom, "sure."

Tsukiyama opens his bedroom door. Steps inside. Shuts it. Hinami pushes away from the counter, catching Kaneki's eye. She looks sad as she comes to stand beside Banjou to help him pick up the packaged meat.

Hinami's voice is very soft when she speaks. "He's probably going to sleep."

"Yeah," Banjou says.

"He should eat something." 

"Yeah."

Kaneki looks down. At his hands. He wonders if this is what a ghoul household is like. If this is what Hinami grew up with. Banjou didn't have one, nor did Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante. They went from place to place, surviving as well they could. No time for education. No chance for it. Kaneki remembers showing them how to write their names, back in those dank rooms with Aogiri. It had torn something, so deep within Kaneki that there's no chance for it to heal.

This world is wrong.

 

**April, 9th Ward, Tsukiyama Estate**

The house is in an uproar.

There's been blood.

Whose blood isn't quite clear to Kanae. Kanae was watering the roses in the greenhouse when the argument between Shuu and Mirumo occurred. There'd been yelling, which had alerted Kanae that something was up, and then staff had started running, which took Kanae out of the greenhouse. Back into the house. A window had smashed in the main study. Mirumo is up there. Shuu is not. Shuu is not in the house. 

_There's a place,_ Matsumae had said when they'd searched everywhere within the mansion, even the underground freezers. _He used to go there to hide from everyone else but me. Try the south garden shed._

Kanae rarely comes to the south garden. It's not a popular place among anyone in the household. There's something foreboding about the atmosphere. 

"Matsumae -"

Shuu is crying. He's sitting in the doorway of the shed. He has a picnic blanket wrapped around himself. The scent of blood is very strong. It's not Shuu's blood. 

"I'm sorry -"

Matsumae runs forward, no attempt at maintaining propriety. Shuu wails, hands scrambling to grasp onto her. Matsumae gathers him up as Kanae drops down onto the steps just before Matsumae's kagune erupts. Blocking them in. Shuu continues sobbing. Unconsolable.

Mirumo, Kanae thinks, must be wounded. Shuu did it. His kagune is still drawn, under the picnic blanket. It's the source of the blood scent. Since it's on his kagune, it will be very difficult to get off. Kanae looks down. The wood of the steps are worn.

"Tsukiyama-san," Matsumae says, and her voice wavers; she sounds her age. "If you keep crying like that, you'll throw up."

Shuu coughs. Kanae watches his fingers tighten on the fabric around Matsumae's upper arm. 

"Matsumae," Shuu says, softer but still very high, "Matsumae -"

"Shush," Matsumae says as Kanae fists hands into trousers. "There is no lasting damage."

"No," Shuu moans. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm -"

"Tsukiyama-san," Matsumae says, her tone firm. "Stop apologising." 

It makes Kanae bite the bottom lip. Kanae has to be careful not to break skin. Shuu makes a wretched noise that he chokes off. There's the fresh scent of blood. Shuu has bitten through something in his mouth. Matsumae clicks her tongue in disapproval. 

"Control yourself," she says, looking down at Shuu, who is still buried against her chest. "You're far too old for this sort of behaviour."

They all know this. Shuu is an adult. He has been for all the time Kanae has known him. Up until recently, Kanae hadn't seen any real cracks. Shuu has become pensive and quieter over the past several years as well as efficient and increasingly business-minded. He used to be flighty and fanciful when he was younger, and he still is, but it doesn't last like it used to. Shuu worries a lot. He spends a lot of time planning and watching and thinking. He looks after the household, even though he's rarely home, and he regularly emails home instructions for harvesting and opinions on what to import. Shuu is dependable. He keeps his promises.

But it's come with a price. Kanae remembers Shuu's apartment. It's probably the same, if not worse now. Shuu and Mirumo's relationship is gradually degrading. Shuu cries a lot more these days and more often in this inconsolable way. He doesn't sleep when he's on the estate, and he hasn't eaten here in years. Shuu is good at faking he's alright, but he's not. He's desperately unhappy. He's overworked. Overburdened.

In the doorway to the shed, Shuu breathes out. A long, thin sigh. He shifts, Matsumae withdrawing her arms. The picnic blanket shifts as Shuu contracts his kagune. He kneels, half in and half out of the shed, hands supporting himself. Matsumae pulls out a handkerchief, holding it out until Shuu takes it. Wiping his face.

"You should eat something."

Shuu coughs. Blows his nose. He's bent far enough forward that Kanae cannot see his face. 

"No," Shuu says, wobbly and muffled. "I... need to go. I'm running late already. I need a change of clothes."

Matsumae starts to stand, but Shuu's sits up. He looks up at her. Cheeks splotchy and eyes red, but there's a hardness. The picnic blanket has slipped off his shoulders. The back of his shirt is badly torn. It's covered in blood splatter. 

"Just the clothes," he says, a command.

Matsumae nods. Kanae's stomach twists. She moves, making her kagune wall part so that she can head back to the house. It'll be cleaned up later. Shuu watches her go, handkerchief clenched in his hands. He's shivering.

"Shuu-sama -"

He shakes his head. Forces himself to unfist his hands. Kanae holds out a hand to take the handkerchief. Shuu shakes his head. He lifts a hand towards Kanae, still looking in the direction that Matsumae had gone. His fingertips brush Kanae's right cheek. A gentle, reassuring press. They're ice cold. Kanae has to resist the urge to reach up and cup them. Rub them. Try and make them warm.

"I'm sorry, Kanae," Shuu says, watching the opening in the kagune wall. "This is inadequate."

It's not. Shuu is doing his best with what they have. Shuu cares for Kanae, Matsumae, the entire household. He makes sure they're well-fed and remembers everyone's birthdays and acknowledge each person as if they matter. He's a good and caring master, and he fights with Mirumo to make sure things work as they should. They don't argue over petty things. Everyone in the household knows it. It's more than Kanae could dare to hope for. How could Shuu thinks that this was anything less? 

"One day," Shuu says, his gaze drifting upward, towards the sky. "I'll fix this. I promise."

He doesn't have to fix anything. That isn't something Kanae can say. Despite how Shuu favours Kanae and how much Kanae cares for Shuu, they are not equals. Shuu is the Tsukiyama heir, the young master who has outstripped his father in all but formal titles. He's handsome, charming, and intelligent. He's responsible when he needs to be, and he's thorough in his work. Everyone in the household knows he does his best. 

They love him for it. Kanae thought Shuu understood that. Now, Kanae realises, maybe he doesn't. 

It's a break in propriety, but Kanae reaches up. Catches the fingers against Kanae's cheek. It makes Shuu look to Kanae. He blinks, a questioning expression. Kanae cups the fingers. A cradle against Kanae's cheek. Shuu's expression falters. He looks like he's about to start crying again.

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, and it's hard to smile, but it must be done. "I'm here to help."

Shuu lets out a laugh. It's watery. He blinks, tears escaping as he reaches up. Kanae goes without hesitation. Shuu is cool, and he's shaking, but he's holding Kanae against his chest, as close as they can come to a hug. Kanae reaches around, fisting the torn fabric of the back of Shuu's shirt. There's a faint touch of lips to the crown of Kanae's head. It's very brief, a breach between their positions, before Shuu corrects himself. Tucks his hand against the back of Kanae's skull. Protecting.

"I know," Shuu whispers. 

Kanae nods against Shuu's chest. Shuu loosens his hold. Kanae draws back. They shift, sitting together on the top of the garden shed's steps. Shuu tucks his hands over his lap, lacing his fingers against each other. Kanae breathes out. Does the same.

It must, Kanae reflects later, have made a rather odd scene for Matsumae to return to. The two of them, with their similar colouring and builds, sitting next to each other in such similar positions. She hadn't commented, but she'd looked faintly disconcerted. Like she knew that something had passed and that she would never be privy to it. She would be right.

Kanae knows what Shuu really meant. He had mouthed _thank you_ against Kanae's skull. Kanae is an adult. Has been for over a year. Shuu has cared Kanae for all this time. Favouring Kanae. Protecting Kanae. Kanae had let Shuu, but that left Shuu alone to shoulder everything himself. 

Kanae's done with that. Kanae is ready to grow up. 

 

Back at the end of January, Tsukiyama had lent Kaneki _Le Père Goriot_ by Honoré de Balzac. It had been the first time that he'd lent Kaneki one of his own books. Kaneki had been both grateful for the gesture and surprised by the condition of the book. It had been beat up, the cover bent and excessive writing in the margins. His surprise must have shown on his face because Tsukiyama had laughed.

"Sorry," he'd said after he'd quieted a bit, still grinning merrily, "just, you looked so scandalised! I originally read that when I was learning French, which is why it's a dual-language copy. I've had it since I was seven."

It's not, Kaneki had thought as he'd read the book over the following week, the kind of story any responsible adult would give a seven-year-old. Looking back on it now, six months later and far more aware of Tsukiyama's circumstances, Kaneki is not surprised that Tsukiyama at seven was given such a story nor the condition of the book. When Tsukiyama really enjoys something, he uses it until it's completely worn out. 

Truthfully, Kaneki hadn't enjoyed the story. The story of a young man looking to advance himself in a petty, corrupt world had sat a little too close to home. It had made Kaneki somewhat uncertain if he should ask Tsukiyama for any more books, if that was the sort of story he enjoyed reading. Tsukiyama had caught onto this, though, and had laughed.

"i would have been surprised if you liked it!" Tsukiyama said when Kaneki returned the book to him and told him his opinion. "It's a cruel story."

Kaneki frowned. "Do you like it?"

Tsukiyama smiled, turning the book over in his hands before placing it in his book bag. He was on his way to attend university and had just dropped by the house to pass on some new information. Kaneki hadn't thought at all at the time of the detour coming to the house must have been.

"No," Tsukiyama had said before laughing again, a very cheerful sound. "But the realism is such that I will never cease to marvel at the author's talent. What a horrible story to be so believable!"

At the time, Kaneki had just thought that Tsukiyama was strange. Now, Kaneki can't help but wonder if Tsukiyama saw similarities between his own life and the stratified, corrupt society populated by selfish people in the novel. What a horrible story for a seven-year-old child to believe. Considering that one of Tsukiyama's favourite books is _Kairo-ko_ , though, his love for such fraught stories seems to not be limited to _Le Père Goriot_. Kaneki can only hope that Tsukiyama's wasn't nearly that young when he first read _Lady Chatterley's Lover_.

"Kaneki-san?" Tsukiyama's voice filters in, breaking Kaneki's train of thought. "Whatever are you thinking about to have such a look on your face?"

Kaneki blinks. Turns to look at Tsukiyama in the driver's seat. They're at a stoplight and Tsukiyama looks concerned. Kaneki frowns, inwardly floundering for something to say that isn't going to be insulting to Tsukiyama's taste in literature or his pride.

"What look?"

It makes Tsukiyama huff a little, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "You looked like you were trying to work out a puzzle," he says, turning his attention back to the road as the light turns green. "Then you looked upset."

"Did I," Kaneki says.

Tsukiyama hums, signalling a lane change right. "So?" he asks as he merges. "What were you thinking about?"

Kaneki breathes in, long and full. He could lie, and Tsukiyama would probably accept it. He's lied a lot to Tsukiyama in the past. Tsukiyama always accepted it. Kaneki has lied enough.

"Your taste in books."

A soft laugh. "Really?" Tsukiyama asks, glancing at Kaneki out the side of his eye, openly confused. "What's so upsetting about that? Do you think I have bad taste?"

"Not," Kaneki says, and words are difficult; honesty is difficult, "bad taste. I was just thinking about _Le Père Goriot_."

An understanding noise. "It put you off," Tsukiyama says, his lips quirking. "I was surprised you even asked me for recommendations after that."

Kaneki tries to smile, but it's a poor imitation, so he stops. Tsukiyama can see through him like rice paper.

"It's a cruel story," Kaneki says, echoing Tsukiyama's words from months ago. "I was just thinking: were you trying to tell me something back then?"

Tsukiyama is silent. Watching the road. The car is warm with the air conditioning on its lowest setting. Tsukiyama breathes out, his eyes drifting briefly to meet Kaneki's in the rearview mirror. He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"No," Tsukiyama says, signaling a left turn. "But I was trying to get to know you. You weren't very forthcoming about yourself, and I barely knew you. Just met you a couple of times and then what Yoshimura-san had told me, so all I really knew was that you weren't always as you were."

Kaneki feels his face twist in a frown. "What did my reaction tell you?"

They've turned onto a one way street between a very fancy set of buildings. This must be the ghoul restaurant. Tsukiyama is watching the road, very alert.

"It told me," Tsukiyama says, parallel parking by the back door to the main building, "you aren't a cruel person."

He turns off the engine. Unlocks his door and steps out before Kaneki can come up with a response. Kaneki unbuckles his own seat belt and starts gets out of the car as Tsukiyama opens the trunk. 

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says as he leans into the trunk, "put the mask I lent you on."

It's not a mask, Kaneki wants to say. It's a mourning veil. Kaneki puts it on, though, because this was the only condition that Tsukiyama had for Kaneki coming with him. When Kaneki exits the car and comes around to the trunk, Tsukiyama has already put his own mask on. The abstract crescent moon grins grotesquely as Tsukiyama hefts the large Daiei logo bag out of the trunk. It doesn't match the placid, empty expression on the visible part of Tsukiyama's face.

"I suggest you don't say anything," Tsukiyama says very softly as he shuts and locks the trunk. "I haven't been here since the end of last year, but I doubt it's changed."

That's enough to signal to Kaneki that Tsukiyama doesn't like this place. They cross over to the back door. It has a panel, a doorbell and speaker. Tsukiyama sets the bag down and rings the bell. There's a brief moment before the speaker clicks on, a slightly distorted but masculine voice filtering out.

"MM-san!" the voice says, very enthusiastic. "I thought that was your car. I've unlocked the door. Whatever are you doing, going around the back?"

Tsukiyama laughs, loud and utterly fake, reaching out to open the door just as it swings open. A tall man in a suit and wearing a mask shaped like a drooling dog stands there. The smell of faint rot and dead human flesh wafts out behind him from inside. Kaneki clenches his teeth hard to keep from retching. 

"Oh, and you brought one of your family!" Drooling Dog exclaims, wriggling a hand like a greeting at Kaneki. "Hello, Tsukiyama's servant!"

 _I suggest you don't say anything_. It takes all of Kaneki's willpower not to skewer this annoying person. Tsukiyama lifts the Daiei bag. 

"I'm here on business, Goro-san," Tsukiyama says, a warm tone that Kaneki has heard Tsukiyama use when extracting information. "I had a bit of bad luck and need somewhere to dispose of this."

Goro makes an understanding noise, backing up so that they can come in. "Oh, dear," he says, stepping aside in the reeking room and reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Was it diseased?"

"Unfortunately," Tsukiyama says with a long, put-upon sigh. "Where should I put it?"

"On the counter," Goro says, indicating a space between what looks like a bunch of other bags of similar waste. "I'm guessing you won't be joining us for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, no," Tsukiyama says, hefting the bag into the empty space with a huff; Kaneki lingers back, near to the exit. "I'm really sorry, but as I said at the end of last year, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to be involved in the way I used to be."

"What a shame," Goro sighs as Tsukiyama turns around. "Ah, well. Your father must be happy! Tsukiyama-jii always complains about never seeing your pretty face."

Kaneki's skin crawls. Tsukiyama doesn't react at all beyond one of his too loud, fake laughs. He crosses the room back to Kaneki, shrugging with upturned hands. 

"Ah, well, Father needs to wait a little bit longer," he says before clapping a hand down on Kaneki's shoulder and squeezing very hard. "I've got to be going, Goro-san! Good luck with the show tonight."

Goro cackles. "Never change, MM-san! Bye-bye!"

"Bye-bye," Tsukiyama calls as he and Kaneki exit the back door.

It shuts behind them. Kaneki lets Tsukiyama essentially drag him back to the car. It looks normal, perhaps, if Kaneki was actually a servant. He should be angry, that Tsukiyama tricked him into such a position. Tsukiyama's hand is like ice even through Kaneki's shirt. It's clammy.

"Ts--"

"Get in the car."

Tsukiyama lets go. Kaneki goes around to the passenger seat as Tsukiyama unlocks the car. It is very quiet as they get in. The engine starts up. The air conditioning comes on. Tsukiyama reaches out and turns it all the way up before starting to move the car. He twists around to back out down the narrow lane. Every muscle in his body is tensed.

Kaneki pulls off the mourning veil. Crushes it in a fist.

"The hell was that?"

Tsukiyama backs out onto the main road. He faces forward, signalling a right turn. He's breathing shallowly. 

"How about," he says, very tight, like he's having trouble breathing, "we say I'm stupid and leave it?"

He's driving. Kaneki clenches the veil in his hands. Turns his gaze to the road. Next to him, Tsukiyama breathes in. Out. Tight and laboured. The car doesn't speed up or slow down. He's in control. 

They drive like that for a long time. The air conditioning blasts until Kaneki is starting to shiver. He looks away from the street. To Tsukiyama. His breathing has calmed down, and his expression had evened out. He looks a little tired but otherwise unbothered. Kaneki breathes out. Long and slow.

"How do you do that?"

Tsukiyama glances at him, faintly questioning. "Do what?"

Kaneki swallows. Licks his lips. The air is dry and very cold.

"You don't care. When something hurts you."

Tsukiyama doesn't respond. They're heading towards a stoplight, and Tsukiyama is slowing the car down. They come to a stop, waiting for the light to turn green.

"Of course I care," Tsukiyama says, reaching to the air conditioning and turning it until the cold air comes out in only a thin stream. "But if they can't figure out what hurts and what doesn't: that scares people. Most people, if they're afraid, back off."

"But then they're afraid of you."

The look that Tsukiyama throws Kaneki is dull. Tired. Resigned, even. It's a look that Kaneki is painfully familiar with. He sees it every day in the mirror.

"Better they fear me than hurt me," Tsukiyama says, returning his eyes to the road as the light turns green. "I thought you would understand that, Kaneki-san."

Kaneki nods. Looks down at the crushed, stretched fabric of the mourning veil. The lace is very soft. It must be very high quality.

"Yes," Kaneki says. "I do."

 

**May, 9th Ward, Tsukiyama Estate**

It's raining. April showers bring May flowers. It's been a very rainy year.

"Shuu-sama, I've brought coffee."

Shuu looks up from his desk, smiling gratefully. "Oh, good," he says, motioning to the top of the main study's desk. "Put it there, please? I'm just finishing this."

It's a contract. Kanae sets down the tray and begins preparing the coffee. Shuu runs the highlighter over several lines in the paper before writing a few notes into the righthand margin. He flips the page, eyes skimming quickly over the closing points. Kanae adjusts the cups on their saucers as Shuu scribbles down a few of his own recommendations in the blank space on the page. 

"French roast?" 

Kanae hums in confirmation, lifting a full cup and saucer. Shuu accepts it and settles back in the desk chair with a long sigh. He takes a long sip, an appreciative noise in his throat. Kanae tucks hands at the base of the back, smiling as Shuu enjoys the coffee. 

"Kanae," Shuu says, nodding to the contract, "have you seen this one?"

A nod. "The Tommy Hilfiger?"

Shuu makes an affirmative noise. He sits forward again to set the cup and saucer down underneath the desk lamp. Leaning his right elbow on the desktop, he rubs his eyes with left hand. Kanae resists the urge to reach out and stop him. 

"I'm recommending we turn down the contract as it is," he says, flopping back to slouch in the desk chair. "Why are _we_ paying the import tax..."

It's a rhetorical question. Kanae had wondered the same thing, but Kanae isn't really supposed to give opinions on Tsukiyama company business. At the same time, Kanae isn't supposed to be reading any of the business contracts. Shuu has started to BCC Kanae into most emails, though, and Kanae finds the contracts interesting. The language is fascinating.

"So boring," Shuu mumbles as Kanae picks up the contract papers to be taken to be scanned and filed. 

It makes Kanae smirk. Shuu has always found this part of the family business to be exceedingly dull. If Shuu had a choice, he would be running around, going down to the docks or travelling abroad to factories to oversee the actual garment work. Desk work makes Shuu's brain and body feel like it's rotting, and everyone knows it. It's one of the few things that Shuu can complain honestly about with pretty much anyone.

"You've got a hand's on one," Kanae has often heard business associates joking with Mirumo.

"Shuu's always been energetic," Mirumo usually says, smiling that small, polite smile that Shuu has not inherited. "I'm afraid I'm too sedate to keep him sufficiently occupied."

"He's good," Kanae had overheard while pouring wine at last night's meeting between some of the government contacts the Tsukiyama family has in its pockets. "Very quick and charming."

"A little young, though, isn't he?" and that had been a newly elected diet member, who, if Kanae remembers correctly, is benefiting from the recent chaos in the 13th Ward. "I thought he'd just graduated university."

"Yes," the first speaker, an elderly statesman for the LDP, chuckled, accepting a glass of port from Kanae without acknowledgement. "But Shuu-kun's been attending with Mirumo-kun since he was, what, eight? Such a bright boy. He's very responsible, too."

An impressed, slightly judgemental murmur. Kanae knows well the judgement isn't on Shuu. It's a thinly veiled secret that nearly everyone is eagerly awaiting when Shuu takes over fulltime. It's still good that Shuu hadn't been home for that. Despite all that's happened and the poor state of Shuu and Mirumo's relationship, Kanae knows that Shuu would have been hurt to know that his father's reputation has fallen so far.

Shuu is too generous, Kanae's often thought. Favouring Kanae, who has nothing but a name and thin blood to offer, is a good example of that.

At the desk, Shuu has finished his coffee. Kanae offers to take the cup and saucer, and Shuu hands it over. It's a familiar routine, Kanae taking what needs to be sent away or cleaned up and Shuu reaching for the next piece of work that needs he attention. In many ways, this is the routine that Kanae knows is expected to fill their days for years to come. Shuu, in his place as Tsukiyama and master. Kanae, in the place of secretary and right hand. In a lot of ways, this is what Kanae was likely brought into the household for. Mirumo wasn't showing kindness in fostering Kanae; it was a practical consideration.

Some of these thought must show on Kanae's face because Shuu tilts his head slightly, blinking. The shipment records sag in his right hand, creasing the cheap binding.

"Kanae?"

Heat rises to cheeks through the neck and spreads to the ears. Kanae shifts the coffee tray, feeling suddenly very awkward. Shuu frowns, setting down the shipping records.

"Does your head hurt?"

A shake of the head. "I'm well," Kanae says, and it's not a lie; Kanae hasn't suffered any migraines recently. "Just thinking."

Shuu smiles, leaning forward to prop his chin against his left hand. It's a mischievous grin, easy on his lips. He reaches out with the shipping report and pats it against the top of Kanae's head. Kanae could have easily stepped out of the way. It feels like a puff of cheap paper and ink.

"Don't think so hard," Shuu teases, patting the report a couple times more on Kanae's head before drawing it back and waving it vaguely. "You'll give yourself wrinkles."

Kanae's eyes roll. Shuu sets the shipping report down on the desk. Outside, there's the faint noise of the lawn being mowed. Shuu's expression slowly sobers, just as Kanae knew it would. His eyes flick briefly to the study's double doors before they return to Kanae. He doesn't lift his chin from his left hand, but his right is splayed out over the cover of the shipping report.

"What is it?"

A deep breath. "You won't like it."

The lawn mower moves further and further away. Shuu looks up at Kanae. He looks very tired.

"Yes."

Kanae adjusts the hold on the tray and contract. Breathes out.

"You were missed at last night's party."

Shuu sighs. His eyes drop to his hand. The shipping report. Outside, the lawn mower begins to come back. 

"I know," he says, very quietly. "I'm borrowing time."

Kanae nods. Something is going on that Shuu hasn't told anyone about. There's bruises around Shuu's wrists today, which means that he must have been pretty badly roughed up within the past couple of days. It's not as bad as that one time back in March when Shuu had actively favoured his right side. He'd told Matsumae and Mario that he'd fallen out a window in pursuit of prey. A brief oversight. It's hard to tell if Shuu was telling the truth. Shuu is a fairly bad liar, which meant that he had to be really trying hard to come up with a good excuse.

The lawn mower is under the window. The study is on the second floor. Shuu's hand shifts over the shipping report. Kanae watches him tracing the letters on the cover. The cheap ink will rub off on his fingers.

"I'll need your opinion," Shuu says, almost inaudible. "When I know exactly what's going on."

Kanae nods. The lawn mower moves away. Shuu sighs. Sits up and looks out the window. It's still raining. A very dreary day.

"Scan the contract for me while I finish this," Shuu says, pensive and distant. "I need to head out by two."

"Yes, Shuu-sama."

Kanae turns. Heads for the door. Behind at the desk, Shuu sighs. There's the shift of paper. The clink of a pen. Kanae pushes open the study doors. 

"Kanae."

He doesn't look up from the report, but that doesn't mean he isn't paying attention. Kanae makes a questioning noise.

"Thank you."

Kanae smiles. "It's no problem."

Shuu smiles. Lifts his left hand briefly in acknowledgement. 

Kanae closes the study door.

 

They meet Kanae outside a Starbucks near to the waterfront in the 9th Ward. Kanae doesn't notice them immediately, attention burrowed in a copy of _The Wall Street Journal Asia_. There's a copy of _Asahi Shimbun_ on the table, the sports section folded open on top. The sight of the papers makes Tsukiyama groan, which is what actually alerts Kanae to their presence.

"Really, Kanae?" Tsukiyama gripes, motioning for Kanae to stay seated as he pulls out a chair at the table; Kaneki takes the one closer to Tsukiyama and across from Kanae. "You take a day off and do this?"

Kanae casts Kaneki a frank, suspicious look before turning attention back to Tsukiyama with a small smile. "I'm not into light novels, Shuu-sama."

Tsukiyama just groans, picking up the sports section and looking at the baseball and soccer scores. "My brain is melting," he complains, eyes flicking back and forth. "Hanshin Tigers lost to Yomiuri Giants seven to four."

Kaneki blinks. "You're into baseball?"

"No," Tsukiyama says, setting the paper down and propping his cheek on his right hand as he looks at Kanae, who focus is once again buried in the paper. "Is the coffee any good?"

"It's Starbucks," Kanae says to the paper, flipping it over to continue reading an article. "You should invest -"

"Day off," Shuu interrupts, slouching as Kanae rolls eyes and turning his attention to Kaneki. "Do you want something to drink, Kaneki-san?"

Kaneki is fairly thirsty, but Starbucks isn't exactly good coffee. It tastes the same anywhere in the world and has free Wifi, which makes it comforting for travelers. 

"Only if you're thirsty."

Tsukiyama makes a dismayed noise. He slouches completely forward, plastering himself over the table and the newspaper. Kanae looks up, frowning in confusion. 

"Shuu-sama, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Tsukiyama says into the newspaper. "It's hot."

Kanae just gives Tsukiyama's head a very strange look before turning attention back to _The Wall Street Journal_. Kaneki is starting to feel like he's losing his mind.

"We shouldn't take up the table if we aren't going to buy anything."

It earns a low groan from Tsukiyama and a glare from Kanae. "I bought these," Kanae says testily, shaking the paper in hand for emphasis. 

"Why," Tsukiyama moans into the sports scores.

It makes Kanae smiles a little for some reason. Tsukiyama is acting very childish. Kaneki supposes it is kind of cute. It is a huge contrast from how Tsukiyama has been acting for most of the day. Kaneki can't help but wonder if it's an act. 

"You don't have to read them," Kanae points out, a very reasonable tone that Kaneki recognises from hearing it multiple times in the past from Tsukiyama. "If there's anything pertinent, you would have been emailed."

"I know," Tsukiyama says; he sighs and pushes himself back upright. "Either way, we shouldn't linger around here."

Kanae nods. They start to get up, Kanae leaning over to gather up the newspapers. It's a very practiced motion. Very neat. Tsukiyama stretches, all long lines and defined muscle. He's begun to sweat a bit in the summer heat. Kaneki inhales, watching as Tsukiyama's mouth opens in a wide yawn.

A chair scrapes. Kaneki looks over. To Kanae. Holding the newspapers, so neatly arranged, and dressed in a light grey blouse and white slacks, Kanae looks prim. A little on the thin side and clearly going through some of the proportion shifts of adolescence. There shouldn't be anything threatening. 

Kanae has dark eyes. They bore into Kaneki. A predator's gaze. It misses nothing.

"No," Kanae says, very calm and very placid, "we shouldn't."


	13. Horticulture Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you're an adult, it doesn't mean you know what's good for you, does it?

**17 Years Ago, Winter(? Don't know. It was cold), 9th Ward**

Papa is gone.

The garden shed is very cold. Shuu is very aware he shouldn't be out here alone. But Papa is gone and he couldn't find Matsumae and Setsuna went with Papa, so no one can tell him what to do.

Shuu sniffs. Hugs the picnic blanket that smells like mouse droppings and moth balls around himself. A mouse scurries over the wood. Shuu wonders if it's cold, too.

_What a miserable life._

Shuu whimpers. Pulls the blanket up over his head. Uncle says such cruel things. Papa laughs at it, but Papa laughs at a lot of things. Setsuna. Matsumae. Shuu. It's not nice, but Papa doesn't do it to be mean. He just likes laughing. That's what Matsumae said.

Sometimes, Setsuna said, adults lie. 

It had been one of the times that Setsuna had picked Shuu up and put him on her shoulders even though it makes Setsuna's back hurt. She held Shuu by his legs and let him grab onto her hair so long as he didn't pull it. Setsuna's hair is very fine and soft and white. Setsuna is old and very wise, just like Obasan. Shuu loves spending time with Setsuna and Obasan. 

"Pay attention, Shuu-chama," Obasan always says as Setsuna lifts Shuu from her shoulders and sets him on the counter next to the butcher block and stove. "We're going to make something tasty to eat."

Shuu loves Obasan and Setsuna's cooking. It's so tasty in comparison to what Shuu usually has to eat, which is blood soup. Shuu has to eat so much of that even though he's five because Shuu's RC cell count is so unstable. He's so tired of blood soup. Setsuna makes the best blood soup, though, so Shuu doesn't hate eating hers. He hasn't gotten to watch her make it yet, but Shuu wants to. 

"Smart boy," Obasan said the last time they were cooking and Shuu expressed that. "You'll grow up strong this way."

Curled up alone in the garden shed, Shuu sniffles. Obasan is sick. No one talks about it, but she smells bad, like meat that's gone off. Shuu tried to ask Papa about it, but Papa told him not to worry. Obasan is old. So is Setsuna, but she doesn't smell like that. Matsumae isn't allowed to comment. It's better than lying. Adults lie.

"Tsukiyama-san?" Matsumae's voice echoes outside the door to the shed. "Are you in here?" 

Shuu shifts. Shuffles over to the door. He inhales. Dust. Wood. Decay. Mouse droppings. Matsumae shifts outside the door. 

"You missed your horticulture lesson," Matsumae says; it's not a scolding but an observation. "Is something wrong?"

 _A tulip is a perennial, bulbous plant of the lily family._ Shuu rubs his ears. Temples. Eyes. His kakugan want to come out. Outside on the steps, Matsumae shifts. Sitting down. 

"Is it your father?" Matsumae asks, tone gentle and knowing. "He's only going to be away for a couple more days to help your uncle. Osaka isn't far away."

Shuu knows that this is true, but it doesn't feel like it. Shuu has never left the estate except to go to parties around Tokyo. Osaka looks very far away on a map in comparison. 

"Tsukiyama-san," Matsumae says, soft and concerned, "it's very cold. Why don't we go get warmed up?"

Shuu sniffles. It is cold. He's shivering. 

"Matsumae..."

A shifting. The door creaks open. Matsumae looks down. Shuu looks up. She smiles even though her eyes are sad. She steps in before bending down and lifting Shuu up, smelly picnic blanket and all. Shuu clings to the front of her jacket. Not too tight. He doesn't want to wrinkle it.

"There now," Matsumae says, adjusting her hold before turning to exit the shed, to head back to the house. "What's the matter? I thought you liked horticulture."

Shuu does. He knows he shouldn't have skipped the lesson, but he didn't feel like going. Shuu wanted to talk to Papa, but Papa isn't here. Obasan is sick, and Setsuna went with Papa to Osaka. Shuu didn't want to bother Matsumae because there was harvesting last night and Matsumae always assists in harvesting. It looks like he ended up bothering Matsumae anyways.

"You're shivering," Matsumae murmurs as she carries him back towards the house. "You should tell someone if you're not feeling well, Tsukiyama-san."

Shuu knows. "I'm sorry."

Matsumae pats him gently on the back of the head. "Shush. None of that. You'll feel better after you have some soup."

Soup. It's always soup. Shuu sniffs. Matsumae breathes out. The gravel of the path crunches underneath her heels. Shuu swallows. Matsumae adjusts her hold, holding him close. Shuu shuts his eyes.

Adults lie.

 

Kaneki, although he hadn't really meant to, had lied to Tsukiyama about _Le Père Goriot_. It was a lie of omission. Kaneki hadn't enjoyed the story, but part of Kaneki had been fascinated by it. The final scene, as Rastignac had stood over Goriot's grave that he had struggled to arrange and pay for, had stirred pity in Kaneki. And then the story went:

     He went a few paces further, to the highest point of the cemetery, and looked out over Paris and the windings of the Seine; the lamps were beginning to shine on either side of the river. His eyes turned almost eagerly to the space between the column of the Place Vendome and the cupola of the Invalides; there lay the shining world that he had wished to reach. He glanced over that humming hive, seeming to draw a foretaste of its honey, and said magniloquently:

    "Henceforth there is war between us."

    And by way of throwing down the glove to Society, Rastignac went to dine with Mme. de Nucingen.

The Japanese translation was left unannotated, but Tsukiyama had scribbled beneath the text of the French. The scrawl hadn't matched most of the much carefuller penmanship throughout the book and had clearly been written at a different time. Later, when Kaneki was more familiar with Tsukiyama's handwriting, he'd gone back over the memory of the last passage in _Le Père Goriot_. The shaping of the letters better matched Tsukiyama's current handwriting, which meant he must have written it in fairly recently. He'd written it in French, which meant that Kaneki had to guess at the exact wording, trying to translate it on an online translator from memory back in late April.

 _Le monde ne change rien_. The world never changes. Lying in bed looking at his phone, Kaneki remembers frowning. What a strange thing, he'd thought at the time, for Tsukiyama to write. 

It's not so strange, Kaneki thinks now, as he listens to Tsukiyama and Kanae talking about import tax on Tommy Hilfiger clothing. Kanae is in the back seat, sitting in the middle with legs crossed. Tsukiyama faces forward, driving, fingers drumming on the wheel.

"Why hasn't this been sorted out?" Tsukiyama asks, irritation clear in his tone. "I recommended changes back in May."

"The wedding put everything behind schedule," Kanae says, very bland. 

"The wedding was two months ago!" Tsukiyama says, signalling a lane change right. "Are our lawyers just sitting on their asses?"

Kanae makes a face. It's apparently at Tsukiyama's language rather than Tsukiyama himself because Kanae continues with:

"I think they want to meet with you. Mirumo-san hasn't been in much of a rush with it."

Tsukiyama says something in Italian that's likely very impolite. It sounds not unlike what he yelled at the impatient driver the day before, but this is longer. A full sentence. It makes Kanae's face screw up in distaste. Kanae doesn't say anything further. Tsukiyama sighs. It's long and put upon.

"I'm surprised we haven't lost the contract," he says, turning right. "I assume someone is sending them something?"

"Wine," Kanae supplies.

"Of course," Tsukiyama says, very tired.

They drive for a while in silence. Kaneki doesn't know what to do. He's fairly sure that Kanae is at least partially aware of what Tsukiyama does for Kaneki. Kanae had been aware enough to know that Tsukiyama's state at the department store had been directly associated with Kaneki. Kanae is the person that Tsukiyama wants to protect the most. Kaneki has very little room in this situation.

Kanae lifts a hand, brushing hair out of the face. "Han-sensei messaged me yesterday."

Tsukiyama sighs. "Did she," he says, not inflecting it as a question.

"Yes," Kanae says, looking out the left window. "She said you've made an interesting investment."

Investments. Kaneki thinks he's growing to hate the word. Tsukiyama makes a face. It's a very complicated expression, but his displeasure is very obvious.

"Han-sensei was generous in her interpretation," Tsukiyama says.

It must be for Kaneki's benefit more than Kanae because Kanae rolls eyes. "Did you make the blood soup?"

For some reason, this is what makes Tsukiyama break concentration on driving very briefly to shoot Kanae a cross look in the rearview mirror. "Yes," he says, turning his attention back to the road.

The look on Kanae's face goes through exactly three phases. Surprise. Amusement. Intense suspicion. The last is directed at Kaneki. Kanae blinks. The suspicion decreases in its intensity, but it leaves behind a strange note to the gaze Kanae turns back to Tsukiyama. 

"What should I do about clothes for Obon?" Kanae asks.

Tsukiyama smiles again as they come to stop at a stoplight. It's one of his easier smiles. It's got a whimsical edge, the one that Tsukiyama only ever gets when he talks about fashion and food. Kaneki feels a smile of his own tugging at his lips. If Kanae wasn't observing them, Kaneki would lean over. Press his lips to the edge of Tsukiyama's mouth. 

"I have something for you," Tsukiyama says, light and smooth; Kaneki wants to swallow the words. "I hope you like it."

"Oh," Kanae says, and it's clear from the tone of voice that Kanae is actively attempting to choose whether to react to Kaneki, whose desires are probably entirely clear, or to Tsukiyama, who is being kind; manners wins out. "Thank you, Shuu-sama."

"Thank me when you see it," Tsukiyama says as the light turns green.

It's teasing. A sort of easiness that Kaneki has never heard out of Tsukiyama. Kanae smiles a little, eyes flickering down to the hands over the lap. Pleased but clearly also familiar enough with this side of Tsukiyama to recognise it. 

It drives home, more than anything else, how much Kaneki doesn't know.

 

**12 Years Ago, 12 March, 9th Ward**

It's the first day since his first hunt that Shuu has been allowed out of bed.

"And don't you go running around or using your kagune!" Han had lectured him as soon as Matsumae removed her hands from Shuu's shoulders. "If you break your own ribs again, so help me -"

Shuu had laughed, hurrying out of his bedroom and down the hall. He didn't go far because Shuu is not stupid, and hurrying only about ten paces already had his ribs protesting. He breathes very carefully as he walks the rest of the way to the music room. It's empty and smells faintly of floor cleaner. Shuu smiles, shuffling deliberately along the ground so that he can slide about in his socks. He hasn't been forced to put shoes on as he isn't going to be going outside, not in the inclement weather.

He spends quite a bit of time like that, sliding around the wide room in his socks and probably ruining someone's hard work on the floor. He'll apologise to the staff later, of course. Shuu might be an adult now, but Obasan had always stressed the importance of politeness even for adults and masters. Shuu don't remember Obasan too well aside from her lessons on politeness and how good her cooking used to taste. Shuu will be polite to hold onto her memory, if nothing else.

He's just spinning slowly around, looking up at the glass ceiling and the rain when the doors open. Shuu stops immediately, straightening up. Only Papa enters without knocking. Sure enough, it is Papa standing in the double doors, looking at Shuu.

"Here you are," Papa says, and he smiles, dropping his hands from the door knobs. "Han-sensei told me that you had run off. How are you feeling?"

Shuu smiles, shifting on his feet, suddenly very aware they're just in socks. "I'm well!" he says, clasping his hands behind his back. "Pa -"

"Shuu," Papa says, stepping into the music room and shutting the door. "Put your hands at your sides. You're an adult now; you shouldn't hide your hands."

"Oh!" Shuu hastens to comply, putting his hands where Papa can see them. "Sorry -"

"And no apologies," Papa says, crossing the room to the piano and lifting the top board and putting it up with the prop.

Shuu opens his mouth instinctively to apologise but manages to catch himself. Shut his mouth. Swallow the words. Papa moves over to the shelf with the music books and sheet music. Shuu chews his lip, looking at Papa's back.

"Have you been practicing recently?"

Shuu's stomach sinks. He looks down. At sock-covered feet.

"No," he says, resisting the urge to apologise again. "I was caught up in training -"

"That's true," Papa says, and he pulls out a binder of sheet music, opening it to flip through. "You did a good job with the hunt." 

Shuu beams. He wants to run up to Papa and hug him, but he doesn't know if that's allowed now. Papa hadn't wanted Shuu to hug him when he visited Shuu in bed after the hunt. Shuu isn't sure of what else he needs to learn. He wishes that he'd paid better attention to how adults act with other adults now.

"Thank -"

"Ah," Papa says, turning around and crossing over the piano to set the binder on the stand. "I'd like you to learn this piece by the end of the month."

Shuu moves over to the piano, climbing up on the bench to read the music. Mozart's piano concerto, no. 21 in C Major. Shuu reaches up, turning the pages slowly, reading over the notes very carefully. It doesn't take long for Shuu's heart to sink into his stomach. It's certainly doable but only if Shuu plays nothing else. 

Still, it's Papa asking. Shuu looks up at Papa, who is looking down at him. Shuu smiles.

"I will!" Shuu says.

Papa smiles, close-lipped. Shuu is showing his teeth. It's too late to hide them.

"Good," Papa says. "We have Mister Roswald visiting on the twenty-eighth. I'd like you to be ready by then." 

Shuu bobs his head. Papa lifts his hand but stops halfway. He drops his hand back to his side. He steps away, turning towards the door. Crosses the room. He pushes open and steps out the door. Shuts it behind him.

It makes Shuu swallow. His eyes burn. His chest hurts. He didn't think he overexerted himself. He must have if his heart feels this tight. Shuu turns back to the sheet music. Stares at it without seeing it. He breathes carefully so he doesn't aggravate his ribs more. He concentrates on the music, reading through the concerto. Forming its sound and pace inside of his head.

Shuu is very good at the piano. In fact, Shuu would say that, out of all his lessons, musical studies are the easiest. He can hear it, looking at the written notes, and he can see the notes, if the sound is played to him. Shuu can hear the concerto in his head. It's not too terribly long, but, as with all Mozart, it's technically taxing. Shuu is better at Chopin and other Romantic composers. The classical and baroque styles don't come as easily. There's something about them that feels wrong. Something to do with the sound. Shuu has tried to express this to Valerie, who teaches him piano, violin, and the harp, but she just gives him the strange look that usually means Shuu is being too much of himself for comfort.

This is how Matsumae finds him. Shuu looks up from the piano in surprise; he hadn't even heard Matsumae open the music room's doors. She's carrying a tray of what looks like sliced liver and a glass of fresh blood. Shuu removes his hands from the keys, shifting to sit facing her approach on the chair. 

"Matsumae, what time is it?"

She pauses, halfway to the small table Shuu uses when he's copying manuscripts and taking theory notes. "It's past nine in the evening, Tsukiyama-san."

Shuu looks out the window. It's dark. He looks back to Matsumae, who is setting the tray down on the table. 

"Oh."

He climbs down from the piano bench. His ribs hurt a bit but not badly. Matsumae sets the plate and the glass on the table before setting out utensils. Shuu sit in the chair, accepting the napkin.

"Matsumae," Shuu says, and he's not sure if he should ask this question, but there isn't anyone else to ask, "I didn't do well on my hunt, did I?"

She blinks, drawing backing in surprise. "You did extraordinarily well," she says, her brows furrowing; it's rare that Shuu sees so much of a reaction from Matsumae it's jarring. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Shuu bites the inside of his lower lip. He looks down in his lap, fiddling with the napkin. He thinks of Papa lifting his hand. He had been about to pat Shuu's head. He always did that when he was pleased with Shuu. Lately, especially since Setsuna passed away, he hasn't done that. Maybe he was trying to prepare Shuu for when he became an adult. Shuu is really stupid when it comes to understanding things like this. Shuu is good if it's in a book or he has someone to demonstrate it for him, but there's no book on what it means to be an adult. Not as a ghoul, at least. 

Shuu picks up the glass. Sips it. It's cold and tangy, strong on iron. The person it was from was probably an athlete. 

Like the man Shuu killed a week ago. 

Shuu swallows. Shuu is not human. Shuu is an adult.

"No reason," Shuu says, setting the glass down and picking up the knife and fork. "Thank you for bringing dinner. It's delicious."

Adults lie. That is the greatest truth.

 

"Hey," Kaneki says as they pull into the parking space next to the house, "you didn't bring any luggage."

Kanae, who has been texting for the past ten minutes, doesn't look up. Tsukiyama turns off the engine. Pulls the keys out.

"I have clothes," Tsukiyama says, opening his car door. "And Kanae and I have the same taste in accessories."

This raises more questions than it answers. Kanae is both shorter and smaller than Tsukiyama, although it looks like Kanae's feet are larger. Kaneki feels himself frowning as he hastens to get out of the car as well. 

"Tsukiyama-san, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Tsukiyama turns. Looks at Kaneki over the top of the car. Kanae gets out on the same side as Tsukiyama, shutting the door behind while pocketing the cellphone. Kanae gazes at Kaneki. They look identical. Unreadable. 

"Yes," Tsukiyama says before turning to Kanae; he passes the keys over. "Let yourself in. We'll be up in a bit."

Kanae takes the keys. For a moment, they exchange a look. One of those strange, identical ones. Kanae eventually nods before turning and heading towards the stairs that lead to the entrance to the flat. Tsukiyama stares after Kanae for a long moment. Charting Kanae's progress up the stairs. The door above them opens. Closes. Tsukiyama breathes out, looking down at the ground. His expression, even in profile, is pensive and drawn. Worried. 

It drives home to Kaneki that Tsukiyama and Kanae are family. It's a little odd as there's the obvious aspect to their dynamic that Tsukiyama is ranked higher in the family structure. They don't refer to each other by the relevant familial titles. Tsukiyama is master over Kanae, but he doesn't exercise it. Not more than an elder brother would. There is also an element of mutual respect and understanding between them. Kaneki is very aware that he has never heard Kanae referred to by anything other than Kanae's name.

Slowly, Tsukiyama turn his attention back to Kaneki over the roof of the car. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Kaneki nods. He makes his away around the hood of the car. It's not a very big parking space, just enough to fit a sports car or small convertible comfortably. It wouldn't fit a van, and it would maybe fit two motorcycles. Kaneki stops next to the sideview mirror of the driver's side. Tsukiyama turns to face Kaneki. He's very tall, Kaneki thinks. Kaneki could spend the rest of his life looking up at Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama gazes back. Searching. Clearly tired.

The kiss is telegraphed. Tsukiyama meets Kaneki halfway. His lips are warm. They're chapped, too, but so are Kaneki's. They might be a little dehydrated. Kaneki reaches up, cupping the sides to Tsukiyama's face. Tsukiyama's hands come to rest on Kaneki's shoulders, fingertips pressing against the fabric. Against the flesh. 

This isn't, Kaneki thinks faintly Tsukiyama lowers himself so that he isn't slouching and Kaneki isn't on his tiptoes, what Kaneki had intended. Kaneki had meant to ask about Kanae. Where Kanae would be sleeping. If Kanae needed to eat. Why Kanae is here at all. Instead, Kaneki is leaning into Tsukiyama, who has parted his lips. He's warm and wet inside of his mouth, the feeling of his tongue thick and rough. 

The thoughts that Kaneki had before, the responsible, careful ones, dissipate. Evaporate. Tsukiyama is kneeling, balanced upon the bones of his knees and balls of his feet. Kaneki rests over the tops of his thighs, guiding their mouths together. It's instinct, raw and real and so very rare. 

"Hey."

It makes Kaneki and Tsukiyama jolt. Kaneki, because his balance was dependent on Tsukiyama's body, ends up toppling backwards with a yell. He catches himself on his hands, just managing to stop from smashing his skull against Tsukiyama's car. Tsukiyama himself swings around, a sharp, defensive movement that looks like something out of an aikido manual. 

"Banjou-san!" Tsukiyama says, and his voice is very high, very alarmed. "Don't _do_ that!"

Banjou is standing at the base of the stairs. His arms are crossed and his expression drawn. Kaneki stares at him, feeling very exposed. Banjou looks at Kaneki for a long moment before turning his gaze to Tsukiyama.

"I'm not doing anything," Banjou says and there's a tightness to him, a part held back. "Your cousin came up alone. I thought it was a bit odd."

Tsukiyama shifts. Settling back into a crouch. It's not an aggressive stance, though. His elbows rest on his knees. His hands hang down, limp on his wrists. Kaneki has seen punks and yakuza sit like that outside of convenience stores. Kaneki shifts himself into a sitting position. Crosslegged. There's really no comfortable way for him to sit at this point.

Tsukiyama breathes in. "Ba -" 

Banjou shakes his head. His arms are so tightly crossed that Kaneki can see his muscles straining. Out of the three of them, Banjou is the least physically powerful. He's the softest heart and the most caring disposition. Against Kaneki, who has become cruel, and Tsukiyama, who is so good at imitating it, Banjou's always at a disadvantage. He's always picking up their messes. He never complains.

"Neither of you know what you're doing," Banjou says; his voice is low and soft, but he might as well be screaming. "But you can't do this, Tsukiyama-san. You're the only adult here."

Kaneki feels all the blood drain out of his face. Tsukiyama is frozen. Banjou clenches his teeth. Fists. He's in pain.

"Banjou-san?" and Tsukiyama's voice is high, wavering. "I thought -"

"I've never killed anyone," Banjou says, and he smiles, very pained. "I can't."

Tsukiyama over-balances. His knees hit the ground. Kaneki's mouth is open. Dry. Catching flies. 

"Oh," Tsukiyama says, breathy and somewhat hysterical. "That explains things."

Something in Kaneki tears.

"No," Kaneki says, and his voice is too loud, too harsh. "It doesn't."

Banjou looks at him. Tsukiyama twists around to do the same. There's colour riding high on Tsukiyama's cheeks. Banjou closes his eyes. Breathes out a sigh.

"Yeah," Banjou says, "it's really arbitrary. I mean," and he laughs, a hard, bitter thing, "just because you're an adult, it doesn't mean you know what's good for you, does it?"

This makes Tsukiyama laugh. He lifts a hand and scrubs at his eyes. The sun is setting, and they all throw long shadows. Kaneki looks from Tsukiyama to Banjou. Banjou is looking at the ground. 

"Kaneki-san," Banjou says, very low, a confession, "you weren't born in this world. You aren't expected to understand."

Even though Kaneki already knew that, it hurts. It hurts more than Kaneki thought it would. Maybe because it's Banjou saying it. Banjou is so good. So deeply honest. In front of him, Tsukiyama shifts. The movement draws Kaneki's attention. He can't help it. Tsukiyama has become the centre of Kaneki's world.

"What don't I understand?"

Tsukiyama leans forward. Enters Kaneki's personal space. He brushes his lips against Kaneki's. A gentle press. Kaneki returns it. Of course he does.

"I'm not," he breathes, drawing back and dropping his gaze, "the best person to ask. I'm," and he laughs, the same sound Banjou had made, "an anomaly."

He says the world like its a curse. Like he is a curse. An aberration. And with that, Kaneki understands. At least a little bit. It hurts.

Kaneki clenches his teeth. Fists his hands to prevent himself from reaching out. He'll regret it. That much Kaneki knows.

"Is that why you've brought Kanae? Because here you're in control?"

Tsukiyama sits. His hands in his lap. He smiles. White teeth. Red eyes. He looks like he did when he surprised Kaneki in the kitchen, the night after Kaneki bit his neck. Only now does Kaneki see that Tsukiyama has always had another reason for doing as he's done. For choosing to stay. Tsukiyama had warned him. Kaneki chose to be blind.

"Yes."

This is fair.

 

**7 Years Ago, November, 9th Ward**

Several years on, after Shuu starts university, he'll look back and come to mark Kanae joining the household as the first of three major life events that changed him. Whether for better or for worse is hard to say. Shuu is not the oracle of Delphi. 

The truth is that Shuu hadn't thought much of Kanae at first. A small, distant cousin, who was understandably very sad due to the circumstances of the von Rosewald's demise. Shuu had met Kanae's father a couple of times, once when Shuu was eight and just healed from his first hunt and again when Shuu was ten the single time that Shuu went overseas to Vienna. Shuu had never met Kanae, nor did he have a particularly strong impression of the family. Still, Shuu had though it was his duty, as Kanae's new master, to cheer Kanae up a bit. So he showed Kanae the roses, tried to find the right words, and then let the child figure out the rest. That was, after all, how Shuu himself had been brought up. He hadn't thought anything of it.

It's when he and Chie are out in the garden, playing in the rain, that things change. Chie happens to look to the side as she brushes her hair out of her eyes. She blinks, distracted from Shuu, which won't do. 

"Hey, Tsukiyama-kun, who's the kid?"

There's only one child that could possibly be on the estate. Shuu turns. Kanae stands about ten paces away. Kanae is dressed for the heavy rain and is holding an umbrella. The expression on that small, round face is like someone who has been caught out. The eyes of prey before a predator. It stirs something in Shuu that he hasn't felt in a long time. Or maybe he's felt it and didn't acknowledge it. Not since he became an adult. 

Regret.

"Kanae," Shuu says, turning fully towards the trembling, wide-eyed figure; Kanae is smaller than Chie, and Chie is tiny. "What are you doing out in the rain?"

Kanae blinks. There's little pink flushes to each of Kanae's cheeks. It makes Kanae look like one of those old-fashioned porcelain dolls that someone in the family used to collect. The empty glass eyes that always make Shuu feel terribly nervous. Kanae's eyes aren't empty. They're luminous. Kanae's about to cry. 

"Mirumo-san sent this," Kanae says, holding up the umbrella. "He doesn't want you to get wet."

Instinctively, Shuu laughs. "Well, a little late for that, isn't it?"

He takes the umbrella, swinging it around his wrist. Kanae's face scrunches up, tears leaking out. Crying. Shuu stops. Oh. No. Shuu didn't mean -

"Tsukiyama-kun isn't laughing at you," Chie says, coming over to stand just a little bit behind Shuu; she must have guessed that Kanae is a ghoul. "He's just kind of blunt."

For once, Shuu doesn't really have anything to say. Back then, he could usually rattle off something to dispel the atmosphere. Shuu has always been good with words, although he's aware that sometimes he talks too much and about nothing in particular. It's not that Shuu dislikes silence. Rather, he's quite used to it, since he spends a lot of time on his own. Why be silent when he's with others, too?

Instead of speaking, Shuu opens the umbrella. It's wide enough to cover all three of them, standing as close as they are. Kanae blinks, looking up at Shuu in surprise. Chie huffs a little, wiping her eyes and her bangs out of her face. Shuu looks down at both of them. He thinks, very bizarrely, of the porcelain dolls again. It makes him nervous.

"Well, we might as well go inside," Shuu says, probably far too loud because Shuu tends to be loud. "Can't have two tiny people catching colds!"

Shuu starts moving towards the greenhouse. Chie rolls her eyes. Kanae's brows furrow, half in confusion and half in annoyance as they both follow Shuu to stay under the umbrella. 

"I'm not going to catch a cold," Kanae points out. 

Even though there's nothing to worry about as Chie is entirely aware of what Shuu is and has probably already guessed Kanae's nature, that's not something a ghoul should say in front of a human. Shuu isn't sure what makes him do it. No one has done this to Shuu in years. Partly because Shuu is now far too tall. Partly because Shuu is long a hunter and the learned instincts would spell death for anyone who tried. Maybe he absorbed more of Obasan and Setsuna than just politeness. 

Before he knows it, Shuu has switched the umbrella to his left hand and scooped Kanae up in his right. Kanae squawks and flails, hanging over Shuu's right shoulder. Shuu presses his hand over the flat of Kanae's back, over Kanae's kakuhou. Kanae goes still.

"You'll," and it's a voice from the past, stirring against a thousand and one things that Shuu has tried to forget, "grow up strong this way."

Kanae goes limp. Chie is quiet, looking up at them. Shuu's head feels like someone knocked over a bookshelf inside of it. There's so many things he's forgotten. So many things he doesn't know. There is no one he can ask. Shuu is an adult. Adults lie.

"I should," and Shuu is doing that thing again, talking to fill the air, "ask Matsumae if she'll find someone to teach you horticulture. I used to enjoy it. You liked the roses, didn't you, Kanae?"

Kanae nods against Shuu's back. They've reached the greenhouse. Chie reaches up to take the umbrella without Shuu having to ask. She's got a strange look on her face, her free hand resting on her camera. Shuu opens the greenhouse door, the sensation of wind inside of his brain. It blows open the books that have fallen in there, fluttering their pages. 

Once inside the greenhouse, Shuu sets Kanae down. Kanae stares up at Shuu, eyes wide but no longer distressed. It's like how Kanae looked at the rose that Shuu tucked into the breast pocket the last time they saw each other. Shuu finds himself crouching down to come to eye level with Kanae, following the faint memory of Obasan, who used to kneel to speak to Shuu. The only adult who brought themselves down to Shuu's level when Shuu was small and childish. Shuu's heart pounds in his ears.

"Pay attention at the lessons," Shuu says, "and I promise you'll live beautifully."

Kanae smiles. Nods enthusiastically. 

"I will, Shuu-sama!" 

Shuu smiles. It surprises him, how warm he suddenly feels. There's a clinking noise. Chie's camera. For some reason, Shuu isn't interested in it. Instead, he reaches out, pressing his fingers lightly to Kanae's cheek. There's a distant memory of Obasan doing that to Shuu. He had liked it. Kanae seems to as well, based on the fullness of the smile.

"Good," Shuu says, patting his fingertips before withdrawing his hand. "Now, run along and get out of those wet clothes."

Kanae's head bobs. Shuu watches the child turn and run through the greenhouse back into the main house. The door opens and shuts. Chie comes to stand next to Shuu, her hands on her camera.

"Little mouse."

She looks at him. "Yeah?"

Shuu breathes out. Looks up at the ceiling. The rain hits the glass, running down it in rivulets that run into each other. Erasing each other's form.

"No," Shuu says, shaking his head and standing back up. "Nothing. Nothing."

But, deep down, no matter how much he lies, Shuu feels everything.

 

When Kaneki comes up from the basement, which he went down to as soon as Banjou and Tsukiyama let him go, the house is quiet. The clock over the oven shows that it's exactly one in the morning. Kaneki stands for a long time, staring at the clock. 

He has to admit: he's hurt. He's hurt more than he thought he could be. To know that Tsukiyama has been using him burns like nothing else that Kaneki has ever felt. The centipede that burrowed into his brain, Rize gutting him through, even the old wound of his aunt throwing out his father's books: none of it burns the same. In a way, this burns worse because Tsukiyama had told him. Tsukiyama never lied.

And it's that, Tsukiyama's damned honesty, that doesn't allow Kaneki to hate him. The love that's coiled deep inside of Kaneki has bloomed. It's vines rising up and twining themselves around Kaneki's ribs, spine, heart, and up into his brain. Down in the basement, pounding his fists into the floor, Kaneki had felt it. The thorns have sunk deep. Into his mind, body, heart, soul. 

_I don't know what sort of person you think I am, but_

Kaneki turns towards the refrigerator. Opens the door. It's less full than it was earlier in the day, but there's still the blood soup that Tsukiyama and Hinami made. Kaneki reaches for it, his hands trembling. It's not because they've knit themselves back together multiple times in the past several hours. 

Kaneki gave Hinami his word. Tsukiyama said that blood would be sufficient. Kaneki - 

_I'm not someone you should apologise to._

He takes the container out of the refrigerator. There's about three glasses worth of soup in it. They had throw out an entire body. Kaneki stands for a long moment in the open door, holding the soup in his hands. Tsukiyama is the only one who provides food. Both he and Banjou aren't eating enough. With Kanae here, there's another mouth to feed. Kaneki -

_I cannot accept your apology._

Kaneki has to eat. To eat is to steal. To protect. To lose. It's a mistake. Kaneki makes mistakes. Kaneki is a mistake.

Slowly, Kaneki pushes the refrigerator door shut. He sets the container on the counter. He opens the cabinet. Pulls out a glass. He sets it on the counter next to the container of blood soup. 

_You should drink this._

He's dragged them all with him. Kaneki moves to the freezer. He opens it and retrieves a handful of ice from the container by the door. He closes the freezer and sets the ice into the glass. Wipes his hand on his shorts.

He gave his word to Hinami. Just for this week, when she wants to remember her parents, he'll eat as a ghoul. He can't disrespect her, not after all the mistakes he's already made by her. By everyone. Tsukiyama has helped him even in this by making food that Kaneki can fool himself into finding palatable. Tsukiyama was using him. Kaneki let him.

 _Kanae is..._

Kaneki uncovers the soup. He tilts the container over the glass, very careful not to spill. It's because Kaneki is eating properly this week that Tsukiyama has brought Kanae here. Just as Kaneki has always tried to keep Hinami away from the harsher truths of what Kaneki has become, Tsukiyama hadn't wanted Kanae close to that either. Even though Tsukiyama has no qualms over how Kaneki chooses to pursue strength, he has his boundaries. Not for himself because the only line that Tsukiyama has drawn with Kaneki was when Kaneki bit his neck. 

_Instead of a person who hurts others, become a person who gets hurt._

That's it.

Kaneki lifts the glass to his lips. Sips it. Swallows. A steady, thoughtless motion.

Kanae is someone that Tsukiyama wants to protect. If it's for Kanae, Tsukiyama will let himself be hurt. Tsukiyama is afraid of his family. He cannot eat at home. Kanae is not included in that fear. Rather, Kanae is the impetus for why Tsukiyama has stayed with Kaneki in this place. Because, somehow, no matter what Kaneki has done, Tsukiyama views this place as safer. So, once he saw an opening, Tsukiyama brought Kanae here. Out of danger. And for that, Tsukiyama has given Kaneki so much. Allowed Kaneki to do so much.

Tsukiyama views himself as a weapon. A thing. A means. Now Kaneki knows why.

Kaneki finishes the glass of blood. He sets it in the sink, the leftover ice clinking faintly. He recovers the soup container and returns it to the refrigerator. When he turns back to the clock, it's fifteen minutes past one. Kaneki breathes out.

He can't blame Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama hasn't done anything wrong. If Kaneki was in his position, if it was Hinami in Kanae's, Kaneki would have done the same thing. Anything, really, if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe.

Despite how much it hurts, Kaneki has to respect that.


	14. Red Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki realises, for the first time, that Tsukiyama might be a hypocrite.

This is a dream.

It is not one of Kaneki's usual dreams. There is no Rize. No Yamori. No pain. No blood or gore. 

Kaneki is standing in a garden. It's a very pleasant garden, although there are too many different flowers to feel well-organised. It's feels welcoming, though. Warm. Kaneki is standing at on the path that runs the border of the garden. On the other side of the path, there's a large field. Kaneki can see Hinami, Jiro, and Banjou a few meters out, playing a game with sticks and little stands stuck into the grass. Croquet, maybe. Sante and Ichimi sit nearby on a picnic blanket, watching and shouting advice.

"You alright?"

Kaneki turns. Tsukiyama has drawn up next to him. Hands at his sides. He's wearing a pale blue shirt and athletic pants, which is what he usually wears when they train. He looks like he did back in the beginning of January. His cheeks are fuller and his eyes are brighter. He looks healthy. Tsukiyama doesn't look bad these days (not at all, Kaneki's mind screams, even here and now; he's beautiful), but there's a paleness about his complexion. He wears more clothes than necessary in summer. Kaneki hadn't really thought about it.

"Yeah."

Tsukiyama smiles. He squats down, elbows resting on his knees. He looks down to where Banjou has scooped Hinami up and is tossing her up into the air. Hinami shrieks in surprise and pleasure as Jiro shouts encouragement. Tsukiyama laughs, too, hands coming up to prop under his chin. He looks up at Kaneki. The light in his eyes are dancing. He's never looked like that, not in real life.

"That looks like fun."

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama looks further up. Into the sky. Kaneki looks up as well. Takes in the clouds moving lazily in the sunshine. 

"Kaneki-san."

He looks back to Tsukiyama. Dream Tsukiyama. Memory Tsukiyama. Maybe both. 

"Yes?"

Tsukiyama tilts his head. His hair is fluffy and unstyled. It flutters over his forehead. His cheek.

"What do you plan to do if you succeed?"

This is a dream. 

 

Kaneki wakes up to music. 

Classical music. It's mellow, almost relaxing. It's very soft and a little tinny. Played through phone speakers. Kaneki rolls over in bed, looking up the ceiling. He inhales. The scent of morning coffee mingles with the savoury scent of stock. Kaneki has smelt this combination enough for it to be familiar. 

Kaneki sits up. Swings his legs out of bed. He rubs his eyes. Runs his fingers through his hair and scratches the back of his neck. He looks at his bedside table. The clock shows nine-forty-three. Kaneki got about six hours of uninterrupted sleep, a rare occurrence.

Is it because he's eating as a ghoul? Eating properly? Kaneki squeezes his hand over the back of his neck. Breathes out. It's blood. Just blood. People don't have to be dead for that. Kaneki wonders, a little wildly, if it's possible to just survive off blood. Kaneki would settle very willingly to be a vampire ghoul, if there's such a thing.

The music in the kitchen turns down. "...ing," Tsukiyama's voice in the kitchen. "You slept in."

"Morning, Tsukiyama-san," it's Jiro, and it sounds like she's yawning as she speaks. "You're up early."

They laugh. Little, light giggles. It almost sounds like Kaneki's dream. Kaneki feels his lips tug in a smile. In the kitchen, there's the sound of a cabinet opening. Probably Jiro getting a mug for coffee.

"What're you making?"

Tsukiyama giggles again. Kaneki's smile spreads. He's in a good mood. Kaneki would like to go in there, but he's quite sure that he'd kill the atmosphere.

"Candied tendons," Tsukiyama says, and his voice raises a little bit, out of his usual excitement; it's so cute. "They look a little gross now because they've only just begun simmering, but they'll be nice treats while we're out tomorrow. They'll be sticky, so I'll buy some toothpicks. Not the healthiest of things, but, ah, well, it's a treat."

Jiro chuckles. "I don't think any of us really have to worry about our calorie intake," she says, a wiry note to her voice.

It draws a more self-conscious laugh out of Tsukiyama. There's the familiar sounds of cookery and such being moved around. Kaneki stands up, bending down to retrieve his pajama pants. A door opens followed by footsteps as Kaneki ties up his pants.

"Shuu-sama?" Kanae's voice now, sounding very young and very sleepy. "What's that? It smells good."

"Candied tendons," Tsukiyama says, and there's movement about the kitchen and someone yawning. "There's still some blood in the fridge."

Kaneki moves to his bedroom door. Opens it. It draws Jiro's attention, who has a mouthful of coffee. Kanae has just opened the refrigerator. Kanae is wearing one of the gigantic sleepshirts Tsukiyama is so fond of, which is even more gargantuan on Kanae. Tsukiyama is dressed as is Jiro. Tsukiyama is preoccupied with moving the pot about on the stove. No one else is yet around, or, if they are, they were awake much earlier and have returned to their rooms.

"Good morning," Kaneki says. 

Tsukiyama turns as does Kanae. Tsukiyama smiles, but Kanae doesn't. Jiro sets her mug on the counter, leaning her elbows on it.

"Good morning, Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, setting the lid back on the pot. "There's still blood in the fridge."

Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama probably is aware that he had heard the same line said to Kanae just a moment ago. Kanae takes out a container, stepping aside before Kaneki can draw up at the refrigerator door. Kaneki looks in. Blinks. He looks over to Tsukiyama, who is in the process of pulling on washing up gloves. There's a lot of dishes in the sink.

"You made more soup?"

It earns Kaneki a soft, affirmative noise. Tsukiyama turns on the hot water and grabs a sponge. Around his left, Kanae puts the container of soup in the microwave. Kaneki bites the inside of his lip as he extracts one of the four new blood soup containers. 

"What time did you wake up?"

Another soft noise. Kaneki closes the refrigerator door. Tsukiyama begins washing dishes.

"Oh, probably around five-thirty," Tsukiyama murmurs as Kanae watches the microwave's digital countdown. 

Kaneki looks down at the container. It's cool but not entirely cold. He sets it on the counter as Jiro yawns behind him. The microwave pings. Kanae opens it to withdraw the container. At the same time, Kanae takes a spoon from the dish rack. They never heat anything to boiling before eating. Body temperature is optimal for the best texture and taste. Kanae turns to sit at the counter, allowing Kaneki to step around Tsukiyama to the microwave.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Not yet," Tsukiyama says, setting the sieve in the drying rack.

Kaneki waits for a moment. Tsukiyama doesn't appear to have any intention to adding anything else. It leaves Kaneki to retrieve a bowl to pour a serving of blood into in silence.

_Mom, shouldn't you sleep?_

Kaneki punches in about thirty seconds. Turns the microwave on. Next to him, Tsukiyama sets the stock pot in the drying rack upside down. Kaneki watches the muscles in his forearms move. The outline and movement of his wrists. The microwave pings, signaling it's time to eat. Kaneki turns to it.

"I'll leave the container out," Kaneki says, taking the bowl and retrieving a spoon.

Tsukiyama hums. The dishes don't actually require that much concentration. Kaneki turns with his bowl and spoon. Jiro is refilling her coffee. Kanae doesn't look up soup and phone as Kaneki sits across the counter. Kanae is reading what looks like the news on the screen. Kaneki should at least try to be polite, even though Kanae seems dead set on telegraphing disapproval of Kaneki as much as possible.

"What are you reading?"

A look up. Kanae squints at Kaneki. Swallows a mouthful of blood.

"Oil prices are increasing due to lower than expected demand over the past month in Asian markets." 

Uh. Kaneki doesn't have anything to say to that. Kanae looks back down at the phone. Kaneki picks up his own spoon. They eat for a while in awkward silence. 

The microwave starts up. Kaneki looks back over his shoulder. Tsukiyama is playing with hair. Idly twisting and soothing the back since his fringe is pinned up. It's an absentminded, habitual motion that Kaneki is used to seeing Tsukiyama indulge in when he's working. Kaneki always thought it was a way to help him concentrate. Apparently, it's also self-soothing.

_Is food a problem at home?_

Kaneki looks back to his own meal just as the microwave dings. He knows that everyone is entirely aware of how much time Kaneki spends watching Tsukiyama, including Tsukiyama himself. Kaneki doesn't need to rub it in Tsukiyama's face over breakfast. Instead, Kaneki concentrates on finishing his breakfast. 

Eating breakfast. It almost makes Kaneki laugh. He's only eaten maybe one or two times since he became this way what could be called breakfast. He usually just drinks coffee. He usually wakes up hungry. Today, he didn't. He slept well. It's nostalgic.

Kaneki finishes his soup. He looks up. Kanae has finished as well but is completely engrossed in the phone. It looks like Kanae is reading some sort of spreadsheet. Tsukiyama doing much the same thing, although he is very clearly watching a tutorial on how to make donuts. The scene is almost uncanny. Kaneki catches Jiro's eye as she gets up. She looks infinitely amused.

"Kanae," she says, moving to put her coffee mug in the sink, "has anyone ever told you you're like Tsukiyama-san's mini-me?"

It makes both Kanae and Tsukiyama look up. Kanae frowns while Tsukiyama raises his free hand to cover his mouth as he swallows and then coughs. 

"A what?" 

"A mini-me," Jiro specifies and Kaneki wishes that he hadn't finished his soup because he has no excuse to cover his mouth. "You've never seen _Austin Powers_?"

"What?" Kanae asks again, narrowing eyes. "Is that -"

"A movie," Tsukiyama says into his hand as he sets his spoon down in his bowl while he retrieves a handkerchief. "You're not a mini-me. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Kanae says waspishly, sliding off the stool. "I'm going to get ready for the day."

Tsukiyama nods, wiping his mouth. Kanae picks up the empty bowl, spoon, and phone. Rounds the counter to put the bowl and spoon in the sink. Kaneki watches as Kanae crosses back through the living room. Opens the door to Tsukiyama's room. Shuts it.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

It draws Kaneki's attention back to Tsukiyama. He hasn't picked up his spoon again. He's folding his handkerchief.

"I did."

Tsukiyama smiles. He puts the handkerchief into his back pocket. Jiro moves around them, heading back to her bedroom as well. Kaneki watches as Tsukiyama shifts his hand over his phone. Locking it. Blacking the screen.

"I've arranged," Tsukiyama says, looking straight at Kaneki; this is business, "for us to stay for tonight and tomorrow at a hotel in the 6th Ward. It's close to the Sumida River, and it would be easier for us to stay there while attending Obon. I've also called Miyake-san, who makes the lanterns. He'll be able to take us when he closes his manju shop for lunch today."

Kaneki raises his eyebrows. "Is that why you got up so early?"

"No," Tsukiyama says, and he stands up, picking up the barely eaten bowl of soup. "I couldn't sleep."

It's rather blunt by Tsukiyama's standards. Kaneki watches him set the bowl down with the spoon in. He takes out the cling film rolls, tearing of a liberal portion to wrap the bowl and the spoon. Kaneki watches him return it to the refrigerator. 

"Tsukiyama-san."

He turns around. Tilts his head slightly. A few loose strands of hair move over his forehead. He blinks, long eyelashes and red eyes. Even though Kaneki now knows that Tsukiyama doesn't feel the same, Kaneki still wants to reach out. Bridge the space. He knows Tsukiyama will let him. But Tsukiyama lets people do a lot to him if he thinks it'll pay off in the end. If it'll get him what he wants.

It's selfish and selfless at the same time.

"Thanks," Kaneki says. 

He knows his voice is strained. It's obvious there are so many other things he wants to say. It's polite, though, and it makes Tsukiyama straighten. Smile. He crosses around the counter to pick up his phone. 

"No problem," he says, tapping it on to check the time. "Pack an overnight bag and what you want to wear to Obon. I've arranged for taxis to take us all to Miyake-san in about two hours."

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama turns, heading back to his room. He opens and shuts the door. Kaneki looks back down at his empty soup bowl. Kaneki has eaten far more than Tsukiyama has in the past couple of days.

He realises, for the first time, that Tsukiyama might be a hypocrite. It's unkind thought, but Kaneki is that type of person. Tsukiyama isn't the type of hypocrite who means to do anyone harm, though. It's not like Kaneki, who is aware of his hypocritical ideals more and more these days. He thinks of Touka, asking if she came come, too. Kaneki knows now that he was unkind to her, to turn her heart down the way he did, even though it was the right thing to do.

And that's a perfect example of Kaneki's hypocrisy. Back then, he'd accepted Tsukiyama as his sword because Tsukiyama looked like a good memory. He looked strong and unflappable, exactly the opposite of how Kaneki felt at the time. Out of everyone, Kaneki had had the least reason to accept Tsukiyama's offer for help. They barely knew each other. Kaneki accepted it specifically because there were no immediate consequences.

Kaneki didn't turn down Touka because he cared for her. He'd done it to protect himself. 

He'd accepted Tsukiyama for the same reason. Tsukiyama is capable. Kaneki wouldn't have to protect him. He hasn't. Tsukiyama takes care of himself. That should be enough, but Kaneki is greedy, and he wants more. Far more than Tsukiyama can comfortably give him. But he keeps giving, letting Kaneki do what he wants, because Tsukiyama has been playing his own game from the start. He's someone who will hurt himself to protect others. To protect Kanae, Tsukiyama doesn't hesitate.

Kaneki is part of the cycle. There's no one in this house that hurts Tsukiyama as much as Kaneki does. He's done to Tsukiyama what he wanted to avoid doing to Touka. Perhaps, he hurt Touka anyway.

This is the type of person Kaneki has become.

 

The manju shop looks extraordinarily normal. It's light browns and tans, earthy tones perfect for an old-fashioned manju specialist. The storefront is fairly modern, though, and the interior is air-conditioned. There's exactly twelve types of manju on display in the case, which draws Hinami and Tsukiyama's attention immediately after entering. 

Kanae announces them. "It's us, Miyake-san!"

Miyake turns out to be a very old, very stooped human man. Miyake hobbles out of the back room, his cane heavy against the shop's wood. He has very thick spectacles and flyaway tufts of white hair. He looks comical, like something out of a cartoon.

"Shuu-kun," he says with a voice like squeaky gravel, patting Banjou on the right forearm, "my, my, you've grown!"

"Uh," Banjou says. 

Tsukiyama coughs, drawing Miyake's magnified bespeckled gaze. "Miyake-jii, that's my friend, Banjou-san."

"Oh, dear," Miyake says.

He hobbles a couple steps to the left to stand in front of Tsukiyama, who has straightened up at the display case. The hand that pat Banjou's arm shoots out and pinches Tsukiyama's side. It takes Tsukiyama completely by surprise. He makes a noise somewhere between a yelp and a squeak. Hinami covers her mouth. It doesn't entirely hide her amusement.

"Shuu-kun," Miyake says, in a much squeakier and aggressive tone, "you're so skinny! You're wasting away -"

"What?" Tsukiyama asks, taken aback. "No -"

Miyake prods him much more forcefully and in such a way that it makes Tsukiyama yelp in discomfort. "See?" Miyake points out, aiming for the same place; Tsukiyama tries unsuccessfully to squirm away in the small space. "I found a rib already!"

Tsukiyama makes a noise of faint protest, continuing to try to evade Miyake's prodding without knocking his hands away. Kaneki suspects he would if Miyake wasn't an old man and so obviously dependent on his cane for balance. Tsukiyama would have been able to evade if the shop was bigger and didn't have nearly so many people packed into it. Instead, he's reduced to shifting awkwardly as Miyake scowls and prods him. 

"Miyake-san -" Kanae starts. 

"Don't you whine at me," Miyake gripes, poking Tsukiyama in the stomach one last time before leaning both of his hands on his cane. "My daughter keeps me up to date about her favourite patients. You don't listen to her, she says, so maybe you'll listen to an old man -"

"Miyake-jii!" Tsukiyama exclaims; he's gradually turning as red as his eyes. "I would love your advice, but we really don't have all -"

"Maybe they don't," Miyake says, raising his voice to a shrill, "but you do. You and Kanae go in the back and _wait_. I don't need two young masters to do my job."

Tsukiyama gapes. Kanae's face is as red as a tomato. Kaneki has to bring a hand up to cover his mouth to avoid laughing. Tsukiyama recovers first, his shoulders slouching slightly. Deflating.

"That's unfair," he says, although he's already reaching out to take Kanae's elbow. "Come along, Kanae, before we both get stabbed..."

Tsukiyama pulls Kanae around Miyake, the counter, and through into the back room. They pass under the noren. In their absence, Miyake focuses his attention on surveying the remaining occupants. Kaneki shifts, distinctly feeling like Miyake is somehow finding them lacking.

"Well, then," Miyake says, tapping his cane against the ground. "You're all so painfully awkward, you have to be ghouls. Here for lanterns, then?"

Kaneki's mouth is open. Miyake turns and starts towards the backroom where he'd just sent Tsukiyama and Kanae. Hinami recovers first moving to follow after him. It gets Kaneki and everyone else moving. Kaneki catches sight of Banjou's face. He looks somewhere between gobsmacked and severely overwhelmed.

The backroom is neatly divided between a kitchen optimized for manju making and a workbench covered in lanterns. Tsukiyama looks up from where he and Kanae are sitting next to the workbench. Kanae has a lantern resting on the lap between hands. Kanae's looking down at it with a very distant, sober expression. Tsukiyama smiles, a good imitation of his usual welcoming one. It isn't fully working, though.

"Oh," he says, and he looks down as well at his clasped hands.

Miyake hobbles over to the bench, sitting down at the free chair. "Anyone who wants a lantern, choose one," he instructs, picking up a very fine tipped brush. "I'll write what you want on it." 

Hinami steps forward, looking over the lanterns carefully. Next to Kaneki, Banjou shifts. 

"How," Banjou starts before clearing his throat, "many names can you fit the candle?"

Miyake looks at him, eyes huge in the thick glasses. He doesn't blink.

"The most I've ever fit was forty-three."

Kaneki's stomach twists. He has to turn away. Forty-three. He looks at the old-fashioned manju implements. He remembers using the lanterns at Obon to make wishes. Kaneki doesn't even remember what the wishes were now. 

It ends up that Hinami gets a lantern for her parents, Kanae a lantern for which no one discusses aloud, and Banjou for everyone they lost to Aogiri Tree. They're simple lanterns, easy to slip into the river along all the others that humans will be buying tomorrow. Hinami cradles her lantern in much the same fashion as Kanae. Kanae hasn't look up at anyone once in the hour that passes as Miyake carefully writes out all the names on Banjou's candle.

"I don't know how they're written," Banjou mutters.

"Hiragana works fine," Miyake says, almost soothing. 

Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante huddle around Miyake as he writes. It leaves Kaneki standing with his arm around Hinami, who isn't completely there. Tsukiyama has been running his fingers lightly over the crown of Kanae's head to the base of the skull. He's watching Kanae carefully and attentively. Kaneki senses this attentiveness is the only reason that Kanae is allowing the emotional disconnect. To acknowledge emotions brewing inside.

Kaneki looks at Hinami. She doesn't look up, which is unusual for her. She almost always responds if someone is giving her attention. Now, though, she remains downcast, her eyes upon her lantern and the candle inside. From the open top, Kaneki can see the candle. It's a handmade thing that smells faintly of tallow. The given names of both Ryouko and Asaki are written on in tiny, exact kanji just next to the wick. The family name is left off. It will burn off within a few seconds of lighting the candle.

Slowly, Hinami blinks. She looks up at Kaneki. Her eyes are watery, but no tears escape. She won't cry again, not over this. Hinami isn't a little girl. 

"Do you want one, Kaneki-niisan?"

Kaneki shakes his head. He squeezes her shoulder. It makes her smile, shaky but accepting. Grateful. She looks back down at the lantern. The candle. The names.

There isn't, Kaneki thinks lowly, any reason for Kaneki to get a lantern. The people that Kaneki would mourn are being taken care of by Banjou, who has more right to mourn them than Kaneki. There's no point to getting a lantern for Kaneki's parents because they've long passed on. Besides, they were human. Kaneki could go to a shrine if he wanted to honour them. No one here can do anything like that. 

Ghouls don't get graves. The majority of them, as far as Kaneki can see, live short, tumultuous, harsh lives. The CCG hunts, executes, and turns suitable kagune into quinque to repeat the process. The rest: it's hard to say. Kaneki wonders what someone like Tsukiyama can expect. He's unlikely to die a natural death. If he does, maybe cremation. It's the safest option. 

"There," Miyake says, setting his brush down. "We're done."

The candle is nearly black with ink. Miyake sets it inside of Banjou's lantern before putting the lantern in a brown gift bag. It has the stamp of the manju shop on it. A perfect cover for what they actually are. It's a danger to Miyake if they were to lose these lanterns, but Kaneki can't imagine anyone would ever figure it out. Not unless they were already in the know.

Miyake holds out the bag to Banjou, who takes it with as careful a touch as possible. It makes Miyake smile, yellowed and blunt teeth. He pats Banjou's hand. Banjou smiles, watery. He's crying. 

"Now all of you hurry on," Miyake says, a gentle little squeak. "I need to open the shop again."

 

The hotel room that Tsukiyama has arranged turns out to be a penthouse suite. Kaneki feels like he should have expected this, but he didn't. The entrance room to the suite is as large as their flat's living room and kitchen combined.

"Wow," Hinami says, looking up at the chandelier that lights the entrance, "this is amazing!"

"Ko sometsuke," Tsukiyama mutters, distracted by the display case of pottery on the wall. "That's imitation, surely."

Hinami continues to admire the chandelier while Tsukiyama moves over to look at the pottery, Kanae trailing after him. Both Tsukiyama and Kanae have been oddly subdued since leaving Miyake's shop. Kanae still has the lantern in its bag in hand. The rest of their luggage is going to be brought up. Kaneki watches them standing in front of the display case, the way that Tsukiyama hand shifts just enough the inside of Kanae's palm. The way Kanae's hand twitches. Like it would like to hold on. 

It's too intimate. Kaneki looks away. Back to Hinami. She's watching them, too, a soft look to her face. It makes her look older. She resembles her mother very heavily. Kaneki swallows. He starts to turn and almost ends up in Banjou's chest.

"Hey, Tsukiyama-san," Banjou says, even as the hand that isn't holding his lantern bag drifts up to steady Kaneki, "what's the sleeping situation for this place?"

Kaneki turns around again, although Banjou keeps his hold on Kaneki's elbow. Tsukiyama visibly shakes himself, pulling it attention away from the display. He doesn't drop the touch against Kanae's hand as he meets Banjou's gaze.

"There's two master bedrooms with attached baths upstairs and two guest rooms and a study on this floor which are also ensuite. I asked that one of the master bedrooms be converted to suit three people for Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante and the study be converted to a bedroom."

"Upstairs," Banjou says, as uncomprehending as Kaneki now feels.

"Yes," Tsukiyama says, motioning to the stairway at the join what Kaneki now notices is a full kitchen and dining area. "Is something wrong?"

Kaneki has to sit down. There are two very large couches. Kaneki sits on the one nearest to him. He looks up. It's a mistake. The chandelier looks like it's made of crystal. It might actually be made of crystal.

"This..." Banjou flaps his now free arm, obviously stuck almost speechless. "Well, shit," he says after a long moment, and he grins. "You really are a wealthy bastard."

Tsukiyama bursts out laughing, even as Kanae's head whips around, expression deeply offended. "I've told you I'm not a bastard," Tsukiyama says, curling his fingers around Kanae's, reassuring. "But, _ouais_ , this is what it is."

Banjou snorts. Kaneki has to lean back. The couch is a cream-coloured leather and very soft. It's like sitting on a slightly squeaky cloud. Hinami moves to sit down next to Kaneki. She sets her lantern bag on the coffee table and flops onto the couch with a soft huff. 

"By the way," Tsukiyama says, and it's in a more serious tone, which draws everyone's attention back to him, "the top management of this hotel are ghouls, so if you're hungry, dial the kitchens, tell them that you're staying in the 111th floor suite, and ask to speak to the head chef. She'll identify herself as Sakura and offer you the chef's special. Just specify if and how you want it cooked." 

It's quiet. Banjou's mouth hangs open. Speechless. Hinami, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante all have similar looks on their faces. Kaneki isn't speechless, but he doesn't have anything to say. He thinks of the trip to the Ghoul Restaurant. Suddenly, a lot of that makes sense. Tsukiyama is a ghoul of the upper class. If they have restaurants, then this is not so strange. Kaneki has always known that nothing over the past eight months would have happened if it wasn't for Tsukiyama's money. Money is greater than anything. 

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, breaking the silence. "You need to call about the Hilfiger contract."

It successfully draws Tsukiyama's attention back. Kanae and Tsukiyama's hands part as they both step away from the case, Tsukiyama reaching to his pocket for his phone and Kanae's hand drifting to clasp behind the back. They both stand straight, although Kanae's posture is one purely of presentation. Deference. Their assigned roles.

" _Sì, certo_ ," Tsukiyama says, moving towards the stairwell; he looks back at everyone apologetically. "I'm sorry, but this can't wait. Is it alright if Kanae and I take the unconverted master bedroom?"

Kaneki nods. He doesn't know what he would do with a master bedroom. He doesn't even want to know how big the thing must be. A guest room will suit Kaneki just fine. Even that may be ostentatious. Everyone else must agree because Tsukiyama smiles, pleasant and distracted. 

"Please make yourself at home."

He and Kanae disappear up the stairs, Kanae's voice filtering down as Kanae rattles off what sounds like something really complicated with figures. Kaneki hears Tsukiyama's voice, words indistinct but clearly complaining, just before a door opens and shuts. Banjou blows out a long breath. It might have been a whistle. Banjou can't whistle.

"Wow," Banjou mutters.

Kaneki looks at him. Ichimi has moved to look out at the view. Sante and Jiro head towards the kitchen, clearly curious to explore the place. Banjou's expression is somewhere between amused and distinctly uncomfortable. 

"You know, it's not like I forgot, but -" 

Banjou shrugs, his free hand reaching up and scratching the back of his head. Kaneki nods. This is the type of wealth that is frankly incomprehensible. Living with Tsukiyama, Banjou regularly ribs him about being wealthy and having some odd sensibilities due to that. It's never rough, and it usually makes Tsukiyama laugh, clearly understanding it's all in good spirit. This, though.

"Does anyone need this kind of money?" Banjou asks, almost under his breath and clearly rhetorical.

It's a bit unkind, but Kaneki doesn't think so. The penthouse is beautiful. It's all a wonderful gesture. Kaneki appreciates it. At the same time, it's terrifying. Alienating. Money can't buy happiness. Tsukiyama is a perfect example of that. Tsukiyama is a lot of things, but he's not happy. Neither, Kaneki suspects, is Kanae. The money traps them in this world that's beautiful and full of wonder but ultimately is still a trap.

_What is 1000 minus 7?_

It makes Kaneki's head hurt. He stands up, feeling unbalanced. Dizzy. He happens to catch Hinami's eye. Her expression is pleasant, but her eyes are serious. Focused. Wary. She looks like Tsukiyama. Like Kanae. Pleasant. Placid. 

Afraid.

_993_

"I," Kaneki says, "need to take a nap."

 

In the dream, Kaneki hadn't answered Tsukiyama's question.

He doesn't know.

What would Kaneki do if he succeeds?

 

Later that evening, after Kaneki locks himself in the converted study and has a bit of time to settle his head as much as he can, Kaneki goes in search of Tsukiyama. It's not a difficult search. He's sitting out on the first floor balcony that faces west. He's alone. Sitting on the ground. He doesn't notice Kaneki immediately. He's in the process of opening what looks like a bottle of wine. There's an empty glass next to him. 

With a deep breath, Kaneki opens the sliding door. It makes Tsukiyama look up. He blinks at Kaneki for a moment. He's just showered. His hair is wet and he isn't wearing any concealer. He looks tired and a little hollow.

"Kaneki-san," he says, a pleasant smile; he motions slightly with the just opened bottle, "would you like to join me for a drink?"

There's a faint memory of Itori, shoving a glass up against Kaneki's mouth. "I'm underage."

Tsukiyama gives him an odd look. He holds the bottle loosely.

"Is that a 'no'?"

Kaneki ponders for a moment more before shaking his head. Tsukiyama smiles. He sets the bottle down on the ground. Gets up.

"Sit down. I'll go get another glass."

Kaneki steps fully onto the balcony. Tsukiyama passes around him, heading over to the wet bar in the dining area inside. For a long moment, Kaneki looks out at the view. He can see Tokyo Tower, lit up for the evening. Tsukiyama steps back onto the balcony, a deliberate hell-toe sound. Not to startle Kaneki. It's another learned behaviour.

"Here."

He has an empty glass in hand. Holds it out. Kaneki accepts it. Tsukiyama steps forward and sits down to next to where he's left his own glass and the wine bottle. There's a table at the left end of the balcony with chairs that look like they've been shoved there. Kaneki doesn't want to bring it up and make Tsukiyama uncomfortable. Instead, Kaneki sits down on the balcony floor, the skyline view obscured by the railing. 

Tsukiyama picks up the bottle. Kaneki holds out his glass. Tsukiyama pours him a full glass before pouring his own. It's polite, Kaneki knows from books, for the host to serve guests first, even if it's the host who wants to drink. Tsukiyama and Kanae thrive on politeness, Tsukiyama at least to the point that he becomes what Kaneki is beginning to understand as anxious when he cannot be. It's grounding, manners and that social structure, Kaneki guesses. 

"Cheers," Tsukiyama says, the English a little overbright.

Kaneki smiles. Humours him by clinking their glasses lightly together. He mirrors Tsukiyama's hold on the glass as he brings it to his lips. Kaneki sips the wine very carefully. It's tangy and oddly sour. It slides over his tongue and down his throat, a very strange consistency. 

"Ah," Tsukiyama breathes, his eyes half-lidded. "Passable."

He takes another long sip. Kaneki doesn't mirror him on this. He's not quite over the texture, although this is apparently how it is supposed to be. Tsukiyama catches him. He smiles in amusement as he lowers his glass. Kaneki probably a weird look on his face.

"Not what you were expecting?"

"No," Kaneki says, looking back at the wine in his glass, dubious. "It's kind of gelatinous."

"Blood wine is just spoiled blood," Tsukiyama says, clearly amused.

Kaneki grunts. He takes another cautious sip. It's not as bad now that he knows what to expect. He swallows and sets his glass down next to Tsukiyama's. Tsukiyama sits cross legged, looking out between the railing at the city. He's not really seeing it. His eyes are tired and unfocused, roving lazily over the obscured scenery.

"Thank you," Kaneki says because he suspects Tsukiyama needs politeness right now more than honesty, "for arranging this."

It draws Tsukiyama's gaze. He smiles again, pleasant and placid. He's not there. Kaneki isn't sure of why right now. Maybe it's Miyake and what went on the back room of the shop. Maybe it's the lanterns and Kanae and Hinami. Maybe it's them, sitting here on the balcony of a penthouse suite. Or maybe it's just Tsukiyama, who worries far too much about everything. 

"It's no problem," Tsukiyama says, his hand drifting to pick up his wine glass. "A change of atmosphere is good."

It's the same thing he said earlier today. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama sip the wine. He wonders how he missed this, how long Kaneki spent misunderstanding Tsukiyama's calmness. Someone who worries as much as Tsukiyama is not actually calm deep down inside. It makes Kaneki, for the second time today, think of his mother. How hard she worked for Kaneki and to fulfill the demands of her sister. Responsibility. Dedication. Worrying. It's going to destroy Tsukiyama if he isn't careful.

"Is there," Tsukiyama starts, holding his glass loosely in his hand, "something you wanted to talk about?"

There is. It's been grating against Kaneki's nerves ever since they picked up Kanae at Starbucks. It's unfair in a way because Kanae has every right to be suspicious of Kaneki. Kaneki isn't exactly going out of his way to reassure Kanae either. But Kaneki can't act, can't change himself to fit into slots that no one explains. Kaneki is doomed to be the square peg in the round hole.

"Kanae hates me."

It draws a faint laugh. Tsukiyama brings his wine back to his lips. He sips it liberally. Kaneki picks up his own glass. Sips it. It's not unpleasant. It's the sort of thing, Kaneki thinks a bit lowly, that grows on you.

"Yes," Tsukiyama says, looking into his wine glass. "But Kanae is better off here right now than elsewhere."

Kaneki frowns. Tsukiyama takes a sip of his wine. Kaneki doesn't have much drinking experience, but he would say that Tsukiyama is drinking fairly quickly. 

"Whose names," Kaneki asks, very carefully, "are written on Kanae's lantern?"

Tsukiyama doesn't respond. Kaneki looks over. Tsukiyama's brought his glass to his lips. He drains it. Sets it back down on the ground between a little heavily. Even in the poor lighting, Kaneki can tell that Tsukiyama's already beginning to flush. He really doesn't handle blood wine well. 

"The same names Kanae writes every year," Tsukiyama murmurs, shifting to pick up the bottle and refill their glasses. "Do you want a top up?"

Kaneki shakes his head. Tsukiyama pours himself another glass. He sets the bottle down between their knees. Picks up his glass again. He sips it, looking out at the city.

They stay like that for a long time. Tsukiyama works his way through his second glass around the same time that Kaneki finishes his first. The wine makes Kaneki feel warm and lightheaded. It's pleasant enough that he lets Tsukiyama pour him a second glass when Tsukiyama goes for his third.

"This is nice," Tsukiyama says, the sun fully set and Tokyo up in lights.

Kaneki hums into his wine. He licks his lips as he sets his glass back down. Tsukiyama catches his gaze. His cheeks are rosy, lips full. He's a little drunk based on the laziness reflected in his eyes. Maybe Tsukiyama doesn't return Kaneki's feelings, not in the intensity that Kaneki feels, but -

It's a little clumsy, but Kaneki manages not to knock over their glasses or the mostly empty bottle as he shifts around to kiss Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama hums into the press of lips, shifting his legs so that Kaneki can fit between them. Kaneki lifts his hands to rest against Tsukiyama's shoulders. Tsukiyama sighs into the kiss, breath warm and coiling with the blood.

They end up sprawled, Tsukiyama on the balcony floor, Kaneki atop him. Tsukiyama's hands rest at Kaneki's hips, squeezing lightly with no real rhythm. Kaneki can smell that Tsukiyama isn't aroused, but Kaneki can also tell from the squeezes that he isn't disinterested. That and the alcohol gives Kaneki the courage to let his right hand roam. Touching against Tsukiyama's chest. Stroking against his side. He tries to remember to stay away from Tsukiyama's neck, no matter how enticing it is.

"I don't," Kaneki murmurs, drawing back a little dizzily to look down at Tsukiyama, "know what I'm doing."

Tsukiyama smiles. It's a little sloppy and very honest. His hair is mussed and in disarray. He's drunk. Kaneki might be, too.

"That's fine," Tsukiyama says. "When it's like this, I don't really know either."

Kaneki feels so warm. He knows that he's smiling, real and wide. Maybe Tsukiyama doesn't feel the same, but maybe it doesn't matter. No one's feelings are the same. They don't need to be.

"I like you," Kaneki says, and it's the wine talking; it's honest. "You don't have to like me back. But you should know."

It's worth it, saying it aloud, for how Tsukiyama smiles. It's how he smiles when he talks about food and fashion. When he's enjoying himself. Wide and toothy and so very happy. It reaches his eyes. 

"Thank you," he whispers, tremulous, honest, and real. "Thank you so much."


	15. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate diseases need desperate remedies.

Kaneki wakes up to Hinami's face peering down at him.

Kaneki screams, flails, and barely prevents himself from launching his kagune. Hinami jumps back with a startled cry. Kaneki sits up, heart pounding in his ear. It is not one of Kaneki's finer moments. 

"Hi--"

There is an intense sense of vertigo. Kaneki's attempt to speak ends as he tilts sideways. Sprawling on the ground. The ground is hard and cold. Kaneki's head feels like someone has taken a jackhammer to it. It's not at all like a centipede burrowing into the ear. It's like something went straight through his brain.

"Sorry, Kaneki-niisan," Hinami's voice filters in, soft and very gentle, "I think you're hungover."

Kaneki makes a noise. Hungover? It hurts to think, but his mind dregs up memory. Oh. Yes. Tsukiyama and Kaneki drank a bottle of blood wine together. It was weird tasting. Like drinking jelly. They -

"Kanae-san took Tsukiyama-san to bed," Hinami continues. 

It explains why Kaneki doesn't sense Tsukiyama anywhere on what he has to assume is still the balcony. It implies that Hinami and Kanae found Tsukiyama and Kaneki out here. Together. Probably in some sort of fairly interesting position. The circumstances are interesting. Kaneki feels like the hotel is attempting to pitch him off. 

"You should probably go to bed, too," Hinami says, same soothing tone. "Would you like a glass of water?"

Kaneki makes a negative noise. So this a hangover. Kaneki is never going to drink again. He remembers, rather vaguely, that he told Tsukiyama his feelings. Tsukiyama hadn't rejected him, but he hasn't accepted either. They had lain together, Kaneki guesses, for a while after that until they both fell asleep. Or Kaneki fell asleep. The only thing more embarrassing would be if Kaneki couldn't get it up.

Of all the examples for Kaneki to come up with. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. Even now, with all of this, Kaneki desires Tsukiyama. It's abundantly clear, at least on this, that Tsukiyama doesn't feel the same. Is Kaneki that undesirable? 

_Is it supposed to matter?_

Maybe, Kaneki thinks with a sudden flash of insight, it's not Kaneki. Maybe it never was. In this, Tsukiyama may simply be different. Tsukiyama knows how to use himself, knows how the body works, but he's never, not in all the time that Kaneki has known him, shown interest sexually. He's mimicked it, beguiling for information or to please Kaneki, but Tsukiyama said it himself:

_It's what you do, you know?_

Kaneki doesn't know. The only other person that Kaneki can compare to Tsukiyama is Rize, and that's a can of worms. They aren't anything alike. Now that Tsukiyama's let his hair grow in blue, they don't even look similar. The only thing that Kaneki can conceive that they would share is that they've both hurt Kaneki. Even that is not the same. Kaneki hurt Tsukiyama first.

Next to Kaneki, Hinami breathes out. A soft sigh. It draws Kaneki back. His head throbs.

"Kaneki-niisan, we should go inside. It looks like it's going to rain."

Kaneki inhales. The air is humid and warm. It does smell a bit wet. Kaneki grits his teeth.

"A moment."

Hinami hums softly. Kaneki rolls onto his back. It's night. This high up, there's actually hints of starlight. Kaneki stares up at the stars for a long moment. He doesn't remember the last time he saw the stars. They've spent so much time out at night over the past year. Kaneki never once looked up.

He breathes out. Forces himself into a sitting position. It's too fast. Kaneki groans, hands coming up to support his head. There's a soft touch to his left shoulder. Hinami. Her hands are cold. 

"Don't rush," she whispers. 

She's seen people drunk before. Listened to them. Probably smelt them. Hinami must live her entire life in sensory overdrive. Kaneki wonders how she processes it all. Did her parents teach her? They must have. Kaneki can't imagine how Hinami would have learned otherwise.

Slowly, Kaneki gets to his feet. Hinami shifts her touch. Takes hold of Kaneki's left hand. Her hold is light, but Kaneki knows that she would try to catch him if he falters. Kaneki opens his eyes. The world is dark up here, even with Tokyo bright below and stars above. It's poetic. It's ironic.

They step back into the sitting room. Kaneki slides the balcony door shut. The chandelier casts faint, disquieting shadows over the cream couches and opulent furnishings. Hinami holds slightly tighter onto Kaneki's hand. 

"It's," she says, very small, "a little creepy at night."

Kaneki squeezes her fingers gently. Hinami smiles a little. They let go, allowing each other bit of space. She isn't wrong. It's lovely when it's lit, but at night the whole place feels impersonal. Cold. There's nothing personal nor friendly about it. It's all, Kaneki thinks as he begins to make for the kitchen, very sterile.

There's a sliding door separating the sitting room and entrance from the kitchen. Kaneki lifts his hand to open it at the same time as a door opens upstairs followed by footsteps. It makes both Kaneki and Hinami pause. It's two pairs of feet in house slippers or socks coming down the stairwell and into the kitchen. 

"How was the coffee?"

It's Tsukiyama. It keeps Kaneki's hand frozen. Kaneki is hungover. He suspects he passed out on Tsukiyama. He doesn't know if he can face Tsukiyama right now. 

"A bit stale," Kanae's voice opins. 

There's the sound of a cabinet opening and closing. The faucet running. Kaneki lowers his hand. He looks at Hinami. She blinks at him, questioning. She starts to lift her hand to slide open the door herself.

There's a clattering. Hinami freezes as Kaneki's attention snaps to the closed door. Kaneki has no idea what that could be. 

"This," Kanae says, very blunt, "is a mistake."

"Kanae -"

"You wanted my opinion."

There's a long silence. Kaneki looks at Hinami. She's biting her lip and looking down at her lap. Fingers fisted in her nightdress. They shouldn't be listening to this. Kaneki can't figure out a way to retreat that wouldn't be too noisy. He doesn't know how good exactly Tsukiyama and Kanae's hearing is. No matter what Hinami would hear it anyway. 

"I did," Tsukiyama says, and there's the sound of the faucet running again. "I know that we're running out of time."

There's a short, hollow laugh. The faucet stops. 

"We ran out of time a long time ago," Kanae says, a harsh, pained tone. "I am glad that you favour me when I have nothing to offer -"

"Kanae -"

"Shuu-sama," Kanae continues, and the way Kanae says Tsukiyama's name makes Kaneki feel like a voyeur, "the house is collapsing."

Silence. Kaneki looks at the door. So does Hinami. 

"Mirumo-san isn't blind to it," Kanae says, very softly but still audible this close to the kitchen. "It's why he hasn't acted on any of the contracts. He isn't respected. Your graduation and the wedding: everyone knows who should be in charge."

"I know," Tsukiyama says, low, rough, and terribly sad. "I've been childish about this."

"Childish," Kanae murmurs; there's a laugh, humourless and raw. " _Außerordentliche Übel erfordern außerordentliche Mittel._ "

Kaneki doesn't understand that at all, but it makes Tsukiyama laugh. There's the sound of glass against marble. It's a unique sound. 

"This person that I am," Tsukiyama says, and it's one of those strange, formal constructions that seem out of place in modern life, "is not one that likes giving up. Nor do I learn from mistakes. I thought... Until the wedding, even after my graduation, I thought I still had time."

It strikes Kaneki, and from the way she straightens Hinami as well, that this is not something Kanae would need to hear. Tsukiyama knows they're listening. In the kitchen, Kanae laughs, a low, hard sound.

"So, what?" It's not dismissive, more as if Kanae needs a moment to compose the self. "You wanted to finish this project? A favour to the person who runs the 20th Ward safe haven? I'm sorry, Shuu-sama, but this is something else."

"I know," Tsukiyama says.

He does. He, Kaneki thinks a little wildly and illogically, knows everything. 

"It's not..." Tsukiyama breathes in, long and hissing and thin. "Kanae, it's my ego: I wanted us to have something for ourselves. Just this once. I wanted to let you burn your candle, and I wanted -" and Tsukiyama laughs, just like Kanae's before. "I am selfish."

They laugh. It's a horrible noise. A glockenspiel in broken harmony. Next to Kaneki, Hinami is trembling. It must sound even worse to her sensitive ears.

"That's it then," Kanae says, and there's an odd note, somewhere between fascination and horror. "The favour done, you should have cashed in on the debt. Taken these things in to live for and to serve you. With something like Kaneki-san, Matsumae could retire. It's not a bad plan on the surface, I'll give you that, but -" Kanae sighs, a faint shifting noise, "You are emotionally involved."

A wet cough. "Yes."

" _Ohne Scheiß_ ," Kanae hisses, a scraping noise. "I don't know what to tell you, Shuu-sama. Having these pieces, _tja_ , not bad. If Kaneki-san can make full kakuja -"

"He can."

A beat. Kaneki's mouth runs dry. It's open. He doesn't remember opening it. The floor feels like air. In the kitchen, Kanae breathes out audibly.

"I better understand your gamble."

Tsukiyama laughs, another of those awful, staccato noises. "They would even out our defensive issues. Yes, I owed Yoshimura-san a favour, but it was not so great. It was my decision to carry it out this way. This is what I came up with in limited time and resources. Too much of a gamble in too many areas, but I... The person that I am is not suited for this."

"No one is suited for this," Kanae says, either temper or distress distorting the words. "Shuu-sama -"

"It never mattered," Tsukiyama says, low and very sad. "At the end of the day, flesh may rot, but stone remains."

It's quiet. Kaneki looks at Hinami. Her gaze is downcast, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. To know that Tsukiyama has been using all of them, even if his feelings have become sincere: it burns. Badly. Kaneki chose poorly. Tsukiyama had been a good memory. It was just a dream.

"Now that they know," Kanae says; so even Kanae knew they were listening, "what do you want to do?"

Tsukiyama laughs. No humour. A stool scrapes. A few footsteps. The sound of water being poured down the sink.

"My ego doesn't matter," Tsukiyama says, tired and slow. "Come, Kanae. Let's go to bed."

More footsteps. The fall of house slippers on the stairwell. Kaneki looks up at the ceiling. The gigantic, ostentatious chandelier. There's a brief sound. A voice. German. Kanae is singing. A gentle, modulated tenor that gives away Kanae's youth. Kaneki catches Tsukiyama's voice, a deeper tone. A door opens. Shuts. Cuts off the sound.

Kaneki breathes out. He lowers his head. Turns to Hinami. Her face is upturned, and her eyes are shut. From the slight bunching of her eyebrows, she's listening. She can hear them. A small smile lifts her lips. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. 

"They're singing together," Hinami whispers, wobbling and wet; her eyelids squeeze tighter, tears escaping. "It's beautiful."

Kaneki cannot hear it. It is something that is hidden from him. Hinami is in front of Kaneki. She is Kaneki's responsibility. Someone he wanted to protect. Kaneki has an ego, too.

Carefully, Kaneki reaches out. Wraps his arms around Hinami's shoulders. He draws her close. It makes Hinami shiver. Her hands come up. Fingers lace into Kaneki's sleeves. She shudders. Breathes out. In. Kaneki rests his chin atop her head. 

They stay like that for a long time.

 

Kaneki doesn't sleep for very long.

It's not because of nightmares. It's the conversation he overheard. The realisation that nothing that has happened in the past seven and a half months was meant for him. Kaneki hadn't known Tsukiyama at the start. He had found him handsome, dependable, and more than a little strange. All three of those things morphed into desire. Tsukiyama's beauty was something to covet, his dependability taken for granted, and that strangeness transformed into intrigue. Tsukiyama had understood what was happening. He's understood almost everything that's come to past. He had his own plan all along.

Let Kaneki grow stronger to become a full kakuja. Support everyone until they were all in his debt. And, once Kaneki was where Tsukiyama knew he could not be denied or once Kaneki fulfilled his revenge, Tsukiyama would cash in for what he was owed. Kaneki was the gamble, the element that Tsukiyama could not control. That Kaneki fell in love with Tsukiyama: it must have seemed like the perfect opportunity. Tsukiyama knows well how attractive he is. He knows how to beguile and to please. Kaneki has watched him. Kaneki took advantage. That is Kaneki's mistake.

Even knowing all of this, Kaneki doesn't hate Tsukiyama. It's the opposite. Kaneki understands. Tsukiyama took a convoluted gamble. It took a lot of guts. There's a lot of sacrifice. It was selfish, but it was also selfless. Tsukiyama cares for Kanae and apparently for Matsumae. Maybe even for whoever Mirumo is. There's something wrong at home. The responsibility to solve the problem falls on Tsukiyama's shoulders. He's run out of time. He's desperate. Kaneki knows well how that feels.

Kaneki, in those last moments with Yamori, was willing to do anything to be free.

It's that thought that gets Kaneki out of bed. He reaches for the dressing robe that was provided by the hotel. Pulls it on over his boxers and T-shirt. His mouth feels gross, a residual effect of the hangover. Kaneki shuffles his feet into the soft hotel-provided house slippers. He needs to get some coffee, even if Kanae apparently believes it to be stale.

There's a draft when Kaneki steps out into the sitting room. The balcony door has been left partially open, the drapes partially drawn. The scent of humid summer rain wafts through, and Kaneki can see the rainfall through the opening. It's not heavy, but it's persistent. It's not something anyone should want to be out in. Kaneki can only think of one person could possibly be outside in the rain. It draws Kaneki to the door, reaching out to push it open.

"Tsu--"

It's not Tsukiyama. It's Kanae. Kaneki freezes, hand on the sliding door's handle, as Kanae turns around. Kanae frowns, unsurprisingly, umbrella resting over the shoulder and shielding the upper back and head. It's the only reason Kaneki mistook Kanae, based on the silhouette. 

"Shuu-sama is sleeping," Kanae says, and despite the otherwise practical attire, Kanae is wearing a gold bracelet on the left wrist studded with what Kaneki suspects are real opals. "Did you need something, Kaneki-san?"

Kanae stands straight. Controlled. Remote. It would be a perfect imitation of a servant if it wasn't for the unhidden distrust. Perhaps some disappointment based on the conversation Kaneki and Hinami overheard. Kaneki remembers Kanae telling him to take responsibility. For what, Kaneki still doesn't really know.

"No," Kaneki says, standing in the doorway and very aware of how much of a ghoul Kanae is. "I was just going to suggest -"

"That I come in from the cold?" Kanae surmises; it makes the frown twist, a grimace. "Shuu-sama does have this habit."

Kaneki keeps silent. Kanae hums. Turns halfway to face back out over the balcony. Now that Kaneki actually looks, Kanae's attire isn't really practical at all. Kanae is wearing tall, laced boots and close-fitted trousers. It looks all leather. The heels are very high. Kaneki isn't sure how Kanae keeps balance in that. 

A frustrated sigh. Kanae adjusts the umbrella, holding it straight to make space for another to stand beneath it. Kaneki blinks. That momentary hesitation is enough to stir Kanae's ire. It makes Kanae look over through the side of the eye. Annoyed. Kanae's eyes are darker than Tsukiyama's, more maroon than red. 

"Either come out here and talk, or go back inside."

It's so strange, Kaneki thinks, as he steps out onto the balcony to stands next to Kanae under the umbrella. Kanae is rude where Tsukiyama is polite, but they both have very roundabout ways of speaking. Kaneki breathes in to steady himself and immediately wishes he hadn't. Kanae smell of perfume. A floral sweetness. It's heady. In the heels, Kanae and Kaneki are the same height. It's the only reason that Kaneki sees the way Kanae's mouth twists to a cruel, knowing smile.

"Kilian Voulez-Vous Coucher avec Moi," Kanae says, like it means something to Kaneki; it turns out it does as Kanae adds, "Shuu-sama prefers softer rose-based perfumes."

That explains why Tsukiyama always smells like roses. Kaneki grits his teeth. It seems to amuse Kanae.

"Do you," Kanae asks, very soft and very sweet, "hate me, Kaneki-san?"

There is no winning with that question. Kaneki keeps his mouth shut. Kanae laughs, voiceless puffs of air. Kanae is still very much an adolescent, limbs too long and extremities too big. One day soon, though, Kaneki knows that Kanae will be as alluring as Tsukiyama. They'll be different, of course. Their colouring up close is similar but in different shades. They have completely different bearings and personalities. Standing next to each other, though, it'll be impossible to deny they're related.

Kanae's shifts. Leans forward. Kanae inhales, eyes falling closed. It makes Rize stir in the back of Kaneki's head. Kanae stands up straight again. When Kanae's eyes open, kakugan show. Perfect black and red contrast. In the outfit beneath the umbrella, the effect is stunning.

"Of course you do," Kanae says, blinking once; the kakugan are hidden. "You think: if not for you, Shuu-sama would love me."

A knife twisted below the ribs. A centipede burrowing through his ear. Rize laughing, high and rattling. Kaneki fists his hands. If he strikes Kanae -

"Shuu-sama loves everyone," Kanae says, the smile twisting; there's experience in those words, that expression. "Even though he shouldn't."

_Instead of a person who hurts others -_

"What," and Kaneki knows immediately that he will regret this question, but he's already opened his mouth, "did he do to you?"

Kanae doesn't waver. The rain is tapering off. A moody, summer shower. It will be a very humid, very hot day.

"Shuu-sama favours me," Kanae says, and Kaneki understands that this means something very important but not much else. "So I favour him."

Favour. Kaneki hates the word. It doesn't mean anything. It could be love, hate, desire, destruction. That Kanae uses it in the place of all these things it could mean. It's exactly like Tsukiyama. They're so close that they've come full circle. A round like they were singing in the night. They care for each other so much that they've trapped themselves. In the home neither of them are safe in.

What a miserable life.

That thought must show on Kaneki's face because Kanae smiles again. There's a heaviness to it. There's too many teeth.

_Become a person who gets hurt._

"I don't expect you to understand," Kanae says, blunt as anything can be. "But if you hurt Shuu-sama, I will hunt you down and eat your heart."

Kaneki doesn't doubt it. There is no dissonance, no hesitation to that proclamation. Kanae's gaze is steady. The body is centred. Kaneki knows nothing of Kanae's physical strength, let alone what sort of kagune Kanae may have. It wouldn't matter. In those words, Kanae has absolute will. 

Kaneki nods. Kanae expression settles. It's like watching a veil being pulled over Kanae's face. There's no way that Kanae is able to shut emotions down so well. Tsukiyama and Kanae really are cut from the same cloth.

"We should go in," Kanae says, very pleasant and very placid. "It's getting cold."

 

When Kaneki was thirteen, he and Hide went to the cinema to watch what they thought was an action movie. It turned out to be a horror movie in which the folk tune, "All the Pretty Little Horses" played at intervals in the background. It was only the chorus, which went:

    Hush-a-bye, don't you cry  
Go to sleep, you little baby  
When you wake you shall have cake  
All the pretty little horses

Kaneki no longer remembers what else went on in the horror movie other than it was scary enough that he and Hide had stayed up all night before going to school the next day as zombies. Hide had fallen asleep in class and gotten in trouble. Kaneki had fallen asleep as well, but none of the teacher noticed. It had seemed completely hilarious back then when Kaneki was young and his world small.

Now, even though Kaneki belongs to both the human and the ghoul worlds, he also belongs to neither of them. At this moment, though, it feels like his worlds are colliding. 

"Blue and white for an Obon kimono?" Kanae asks, standing without the heels from earlier in the morning but in possibly more leather than before. "Is that proper?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Banjou asks from where he leans next to Kaneki and the door.

"Of course," Tsukiyama says, and he's still in his gigantic sleepshirts, this time a truly horrendous shake of fluorescent pink, as he kneels at the base of the kimono stand, arranging the hems. "The lotus is a bit mature, but Hinami-chan suits them."

It makes Hinami smile and Kanae and Banjou frown. Kaneki doesn't really have an opinion, since Hinami seems happy. They're all in Hinami's bedroom on the ground floor where a kimono stand has been set up by housekeeping just after everyone in the penthouse had a chance to take coffee and food in the morning. Kaneki overheard someone from housekeeping offering to stay to arrange their clothing for Obon, but Tsukiyama had waved them off. Politely, of course, but firmly. It was the tone that Kaneki remembers him using during the shopping trip. 

"They're very pretty," Hinami says from where she's seated at the edge of her bed in her nightdress. "They have a peaceful feel to them."

Kanae's head tilts. A bird cocking its head. Kanae's hair isn't heavily styled yet, and the loose bangs that usually frame the face flutter. There's a waviness to it that makes the scene unique from how it would be with Tsukiyama despite the similarity in mannerism.

"Peaceful," Kanae says.

There's an odd note to the tone. Tsukiyama stands up, moving to the dresser to open the jewelry boxes that contain the kimono accessories. Kaneki's eyes flick unbidden to Kanae's left wrist. The gold opal-studded bracelet hangs with such deceptive ease. Kaneki looks back as Tsukiyama considers two different hair pieces. Kaneki hadn't thought about it back when they were shopping (Kaneki had been distracted), but the matching lotus flowers on the hair pieces are not crystal. They must be diamonds.

"Hinami-chan, Kanae, come here."

Hinami hops off the bed. Kanae blinks once, giving away surprise, before moving to join her in front of Tsukiyama as he turns around. He holds up the hair pieces by the right side of Kanae's head and the left side of Hinami's. From where Kaneki is standing, the diamonds catch the light. Sparkle. They look like stars. Tsukiyama smiles. A real one that touches his eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmurs before looking to Banjou and Kaneki by the door. "Aren't they lovely?"

Kanae's face has turned into a tomato. Hinami beams, the faint shadows under her eyes disappearing with the expression. Kaneki swallows. This is -

"Yeah," Banjou says, pushing off the wall and moving to stand next to Tsukiyama to improve his view. "It's kind of like a painting."

Kanae makes what Kaneki can only characterise as a strangled noise. Hinami giggles, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. Not a painting, Kaneki wants to say. With Kanae in leather and Hinami in lace, it's like Alice in the looking-glass. Tsukiyama giggles, lowering his arms to return the hair pieces to their cases temporarily. 

"If I could," Tsukiyama says, tone wistful as he opens the jewelry cases to examine the rest of the accessories, "I would take pictures of all of us. Once we're dressed. We'll look so pretty."

It stabs deep in Kaneki's chest. From the look on Banjou's face, he feels the same. A picture of all of them dressed for Obon: it's an impossibility. Even if it's just a candid shot on Tsukiyama's phone, it's too much evidence to tie them all together. Hinami is still smiling, but her eyes are distant. It occurs to Kaneki that she doesn't have any pictures of her family. Hinami's past is gone. Outside of their small group and Anteiku, the only evidence of Hinami's life is Ghoul Number 745. Daughter. 

It doesn't do her justice at all. None of this does. Kaneki -

Kanae shifts. Steps forward to stand at Tsukiyama's right elbow. It's a strange stance, left arm resting at the flat of the back and the right palm over the heart. That reminds Kaneki of something in a painting. The way a knight would pledge before a king. Tsukiyama doesn't look to Kanae, whose gaze is directed down. Differential. Banjou shifts, and both he and Hinami look away. It feels antiquated. It's moments like this when Kaneki really does not understand Tsukiyama and Kanae's relationship at all.

"Shuu-sama," Kanae says, "perhaps -" 

Tsukiyama raises his right hand. Presses the tips of his middle three fingers lightly to Kanae's cheek. Kanae's gaze remains down, but some of the stiffness goes out of the stance. Tsukiyama doesn't look up from his inspection of the jewelry, but his touch drifts lower. To soft, delicate skin at the curve of Kanae's neck. He strokes. Kanae looks up. It's the naked trust in the gaze that makes Kaneki look away.

"Thank you," Tsukiyama murmurs, "for humouring me. I'm being silly."

It's not silly. Kaneki looks down at the floor. Plush red carpet. It's not silly at all. It's a memory. Kaneki knows what it's like to lose memories. To have them distorted. He's lost so much of what he used to love to Yamori and Aogiri Tree. He's lost, if he's honest, himself. The human that he was that was easily frightened by horror movies and stayed up all-night with Hide is gone. In that soft, naïve, but good person's place: that is Kaneki now. 

"I -" and maybe it's these thoughts, this foreign moment of honesty, but Kaneki's mouth is already moving; he cannot stop it, "I can sketch us."

Everyone turns to him. Tsukiyama and Kanae's expressions are identical: wide and red. Hinami blinks at him, head tilted slightly to the side. Banjou's eyebrows look like they're going to jump off of his forehead.

"I," Tsukiyama says, openly surprised and very curious, "didn't know you draw."

He has a necklace with a ruby pendant in his hands. The ruby is the same colour as his eyes. Kaneki breathes in. Swallows. He looks down. The hotel houseslippers cover his toes. They are very soft.

"I used to," he says, and his tone is weak and stilted; unused. "Before."

Before Yamori. Before Rize. When Kaneki was human. When Kaneki was a better person. He wonders if his hands would remember. He hasn't tried to draw anything since he lost his humanity.

But (and it's a cruel thought but Kaneki is a cruel person), maybe this would be the perfect way to start again. Kaneki would only be drawing ghouls.

"That," Hinami says, drawing Kaneki's gaze back up; she's smiling, encouraging, "would be lovely."

Kaneki nods. He knows that his expression is likely disconcerting because Banjou is watching him cautiously. Tsukiyama has dropped his gaze. He's examining the pendant in the palm of his left hand. Kanae stands behind his right shoulder. A battle stance. Kanae isn't attempting to hide at all. 

"It would," Tsukiyama says, looking up; he smiles, pleasing and placid. "Thank you."

Kaneki nods again. Tsukiyama doesn't lie. Even with all that Tsukiyama has used them, that this remains true. Tsukiyama doesn't love Kaneki, but that isn't something that Kaneki ever asked of him. Kaneki would never dare. He's already overstepped so many of their boundaries. Even though Kaneki didn't know they were there, he hadn't even thought to ask. He likes Tsukiyama. Loves Tsukiyama. Kaneki depends on him. Kaneki never respected Tsukiyama as a person. 

That is Kaneki's great mistake. 

 

There's a knock on Kaneki's door.

"Hey," Banjou's voice filters through, "can we talk?"

Kaneki sighs. He's has been lying on his bed instead of getting ready. In truth, he doesn't need much time to get ready, but he really should. Everyone else is milling about the penthouse. Only Hinami is read as Tsukiyama and Kanae had had to help her with the kimono and then to do her hair. The three of them are now upstairs in Tsukiyama and Kanae's room, presumably getting those two ready. Kaneki has been listening to Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante's footsteps overhead for the last couple of minutes. 

"The door's unlocked."

Banjou opens the door. He steps in. Shuts the door behind him. He's dressed already. A traditional indigo yukata that Kaneki thinks makes Banjou look older than his twenty-five years. Then again, Banjou generally seems older than twenty-five. 

A frown twists his lips as he looks down at Kaneki on the bed. "What happened?"

Kaneki clenches his teeth. He looks up at the ceiling. He hears himself crack his knuckles. Left. Right. He shuts his eyes.

"I made a mistake."

Banjou doesn't say anything. This is not earth-shattering news. Banjou might not be booksmart, but he's not dumb. He's the most emotionally mature of all of them, even if not he's an adult by ghoul standards. He breathes out, a gust of a sound.

"Is it something that can be fixed?"

_If you hurt Shuu-sama, I will hunt you down and eat your heart._

A sigh. Kaneki unclenches his jaw. Unclenches his fists. Opens his eyes. The ceiling is off-white. The same colour as the couches in the sitting room.

"No."

"Ah," Banjou says; it makes Kaneki twist slightly to look at him. "So you've figured out that Tsukiyama really is a manipulative bastard."

There's no heat to Banjou's tone. There's no judgement. It's simply a statement. Kaneki, despite himself, frowns.

"You knew."

Banjou shrugs. He's frowning, but it's not at Kaneki. Not at Tsukiyama. It's just something for his face to do.

"Of course I did," he says, and he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the closed door. "An upper class guy like Tsukiyama can't do anything without a reason. I tried to bring it up with you, but you'd already fallen in love with him. I couldn't do anything about that."

It stirs memories. Banjou's concern over Tsukiyama's provocative behaviour. Banjou calling Tsukiyama manipulative. Upper class. Bastard. Banjou knew what was going on from the beginning. Kaneki sits up. Swallows.

"I thought," Kaneki says, and his voice is wobbly, raw, "the two of you had become friends."

Banjou's expression falls. His arms uncross. Fall to hang by his sides.

"Of course we have," he says, and he's hurt; Kaneki's hurt him. "He's good to us. He doesn't have to be. And, yeah, he's probably got his reasons, but everyone does. He's really damn lonely when Kanae isn't around. I don't know if you've noticed, but he's not really someone you should leave alone. He -" and Banjou grimaces, gesturing vaguely before speaking in a much lower tone. "He doesn't take care of himself very well."

Kaneki nods. Looks down at his hands. Kaneki has noticed, although probably far too late and only after pushing until Tsukiyama couldn't hide it anymore. He thinks of Tsukiyama's apartment. All the books, magazines, and dust. He wonders what Banjou would make of that.

"Kaneki-san."

He looks up. Banjou pushes off the door. He moves to sit on the end of the bed. It's a queen size. It's massive in comparison to the single at home. Banjou leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. The indigo of the yukata is patterned with a muted chain pattern. It fits Banjou. 

"I'm sorry," Banjou says, very softly. "I'm not much of a shield."

Kaneki shakes his head. He scoots to the edge of the bed to sit next to Banjou. Banjou looks up. He's close to tears. 

"No," Kaneki says.

Banjou is so good. He tries so hard. All the slack that everyone leaves behind: it's Banjou who picks it up. He keeps an eye on everyone, even when they don't realise they need it. He's not perfect. He can't stop Kaneki from hurting everyone. He can't stop Tsukiyama from hurting himself. But that isn't Banjou's fault. No one is perfect.

"I'm sorry," Kaneki says, and he means it. "This is inadequate."

It makes Banjou smile. It's painful to look at. He shakes his head. Reaches out and squeezes Kaneki's hand. Banjou's hand is so warm.

"This is more than adequate," Banjou says. 

It's not a lie. Banjou didn't expect anything. He never has. It's Kaneki who has all these expectations. Kaneki didn't understand that until now.

Banjou stands up. Tugs Kaneki to his feet as well. He lets go of Kaneki's hand. Steps back. Kaneki looks up at him. Banjou smiles. It's so warm. Kaneki feels very young and very small.

"You should get dressed, Kaneki-san," he says, soft and gentle. "We're running late."

Kaneki nods. Banjou turns. Opens the door and steps out. He shuts it behind him. Kaneki stares at it for a long moment before turning to the wardrobe. He begins to disrobe, pulling off the hotel dressing robe. Kicking of the hotel slippers. The carpet is cool and plush beneath his toes.

Kaneki takes a deep breath. Blows it out. Straightens his back. Steels himself.

It's time to go.


	16. Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brains the size of planets, common sense of a rock.

Kaneki, as he ties off his obi, thinks of _Lady Chatterley's Lover_. Specifically one of Connie and Mellors' sex scenes:

     It was a night of sensual passion, in which she was a little startled and almost unwilling: yet pierced again with piercing thrills of sensuality, different, sharper, more terrible than the thrills of tenderness, but, at the moment, more desirable. Though a little frightened, she let him have his way, and the reckless, shameless sensuality shook her to her foundations, stripped her to the very last, and made a different woman of her. It was not really love. It was not voluptuousness. It was sensuality sharp and searing as fire, burning the soul to tinder.

Reading that back in April, thinking unconsciously of Tsukiyama, Kaneki had imagined himself in Mellor's place. Connie, sensual and trapped by the aristocratic world, had been a perfect foil for Tsukiyama, good at heart and well-meaning. Kaneki hadn't thought deeply about it as he hadn't yet realised the extent for his feelings then. It was not really love, but the candle that Kaneki carries for Tsukiyama had already been lit. 

Kaneki looks up. At himself in the gold-gilded mirror. His yukata is dark grey and simple, exactly what he had insisted back at the beginning of the week. It contrasts starkly with his ruined hair, makes the set of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes harsh. Kaneki swallows. Look away.

His own mother wouldn't recognise him now. Something's broken inside of Kaneki, and it can't be fixed. It's not Rize's organs, and it's not just Yamori's torture. Something in Kaneki has gone wrong. This world is wrong, and that realisation has twisted something up inside of Kaneki. Maybe it was Nishiki and Kaneki pulling away from Hide, or maybe it was shutting Touka out and taking Hinami. It's made Kaneki cruel, harsh, and the most terrible sort of hypocrite. He cared, but never enough to let people in. Never enough to let people care about him. 

It's the reason Tsukiyama lives so deep inside of Kaneki. Kaneki should be angry with Tsukiyama. He should cut ties and damn the consequences. But he can't. Tsukiyama got under Kaneki's skin in a way no one else has ever managed to. Kaneki hadn't until only very recently thought of him as a threat. Tsukiyama wasn't someone Kaneki needed to protect. And, before Kaneki knew it, Tsukiyama had crawled under Kaneki's skin. 

Tsukiyama is not a sword. Tsukiyama is a dagger. Maybe Tsukiyama isn't sensual in the same way that drove Connie, but he is selfish; he wants something for himself. For Kanae. Kaneki was that chance, the opening that Tsukiyama needed to make his play. He didn't care for Kaneki, probably wouldn't have even remembered him if Yoshimura didn't have a favour to call in. It had all been going smoothly for Tsukiyama until Kaneki bit his neck.

That, Kaneki realises now, is where Tsukiyama lost control. Not because Kaneki bit him but because he reacted to it. Kaneki crossed a boundary that Tsukiyama didn't know he had, and Tsukiyama couldn't repress his instinctual need to defend himself. It broke open something in Tsukiyama that he had been hiding from Kaneki for months:

Tsukiyama cares. 

He has always taken care of them, but he's come to care for them all as well. Now that Kaneki knows, he doesn't know how he could have missed it. Tsukiyama's gotten emotionally involved. His gamble is succeeding, but it's destroying him. Everything that has happened in the past week, the kisses they shared, going to Tsukiyama's apartment, Tsukiyama letting him in: it was a product of actions Tsukiyama took but didn't intend to mean. But they did mean something, which is why Tsukiyama has started to fragment. Why he isn't sleeping. Why he isn't eating. Why he pushed aside his gamble and brought Kanae now. 

This was never about anyone but Kaneki. Tsukiyama wanted Kaneki, wanted the power that festers under Kaneki's skin. He was willing to do anything for it. But Kaneki wanted the one thing that Tsukiyama couldn't give: Tsukiyama himself. Kaneki pushed and pushed and pushed until Tsukiyama couldn't take anymore. Kaneki hurt him. He made Tsukiyama into a tool in his own gamble. Tsukiyama is willing to give up, if only Kaneki will. By talking with Kanae last night, he's given Kaneki a way out.

The problem, Kaneki thinks as he pushes open the study's door, is Kaneki doesn't want to let Tsukiyama go.

 

The weather has turned Tokyo into a sauna.

"It," Kanae mutters, very low but still audible, "smells."

It does. Sweat permeates the air. There's so many people attending the festivities that it's impossible not to smell the stink of thousands of people in one place at the same time. It's mostly humans, which makes it a true test of Kaneki's nerves, but there's also a few ghouls that Kaneki can pick out. Families, couples, and individuals, everyone milling about in the heaving throngs. The scent of flesh and blood mingles with the usual scents of Tokyo and the food stalls and incense. 

Next to him, Hinami smiles. She's looks up at Kaneki, squeezing his hand in reassurance. It must be so much worse for her. Kaneki swallows. Forces himself to smile, too. Nod.

"We should find some coffee," Tsukiyama says, reaching out and taking Kanae's hand; the pale grey of Kanae's yukata shifts as they adjust together, the white roses rippling. "Or water. I'm thirsty."

Kaneki doubts this is actually the case. They'd all had coffee to suppress their hunger before leaving the hotel, even though Tsukiyama has given everyone a small plastic zipbag of candied tendons. It's all they'll have to eat while they're out, and with so much going on, it'll be necessary if hunger happens to rear its head. Kaneki guesses they'll duck into the bathroom to eat if necessary. 

As it is, they already stand out somewhat due to their clothing. While there's nothing particularly odd about their yukata and Hinami's kimono, the expense is clear to anyone happens to pay more than a passing glance. Kanae and Hinami's accessories aside, even Sante's yukata, which is the plainest, probably costs more than ten normal yukata. Tsukiyama's yukata is much more elaborate in comparison to Kaneki and Banjou's. It's still blue but there's a darker leaf pattern throughout and interspersed by red tulips. The red goes with his eyes. He, Kanae, and Hinami look like they stepped out of a catalogue. 

Kaneki isn't the only one who's noticed this. Banjou catches Kaneki's eye. His expression is drawn, like it often is when they're collecting information and the atmosphere isn't entirely under control. Tsukiyama isn't paying attention at all, chattering with Ichimi in front of the map sign of the layout of the festival. Kanae linger close to Tsukiyama, gaze downcast and holding his hand like it's a lifeline. Hinami peers up at the map, expression excited and guileless. 

"We're going to have to keep an eye on them," Banjou says, very low.

Kaneki nods. Jiro and Sante exchange glances. A gaggle of tourists speaking English scurry past, phones out. Taking pictures and video of everything and everyone. A couple stop briefly to take what Kaneki can see from the screen is a picture of Tsukiyama, Kanae, Hinami, and Ichimi. Kaneki resists the urge to reach out and snatch the phone away. Next to him, Banjou grimaces. The tourists move on. It's fine. It's not a threat. They're harmless. Kaneki takes a deep breath. Calm down.

He steps forward. Towards the map. Kanae glances up. High alert. Watches Kaneki take the five steps to draw up at Hinami's back. Kaneki would have gone for Tsukiyama, but there's a chance that Kanae wouldn't be able to abide by that. Hinami looks up at Kaneki, smile bright and welcoming.

"The food stalls are that way," she says, pointing up to the righthand side of the map. "We were thinking of getting Hori-san a gift."

"Han-sensei, too," Tsukiyama says, his expression pleasant but a little strange; he looks a bit flushed. "I do owe her for her generosity."

Kanae shifts, squinting up at Tsukiyama. "What?" Kanae asks, tone a mixture of disgruntled and disconcerted. "Why?"

Tsukiyama hums. Kanae's expression starts to morph into something resembling alarmed before Kanae remembers the self. Where they are. Who they're with. Kanae's teeth grit. The expression evens out to something close to indifferent. Kaneki suspects it's supposed to be a blank expression, but Kanae isn't able to completely erase emotions. 

"What sort of food do they like?" Ichimi asks.

It breaks some of the tension in the atmosphere. It makes Tsukiyama perk up. His smile brightens as he shifts, beginning to move towards the direction of the food stalls. 

"They love sweets," he says, enthusiastic and rather loud. "Hori-san likes parfaits and ice cream, but we can't buy that, of course; it'll melt. Han-sensei really likes pretty desserts. She doesn't act like it, but she's a very elegant lady. Remember last Christmas, Kanae?"

"No," Kanae says, very grumpy, "I try to forget."

"Don't be like that!" Tsukiyama says, swinging their hands consolingly. "Uncle is married now, so he won't be, ah -"

Tsukiyama's gaze skitters first to Hinami and then to Kaneki. He visibly waffles for a brief but obviously very self-conscious moment before he smiles. It's a strange smile. It's not one of his usual fake ones. It's like it's disconnected from his face. 

"We won't," he says, and it's in the same tone, but somehow completely different, "have to invite him next year."

This makes Kanae look up so fast that the hairpiece holding up Kanae's hair wobbles. "Shuu-sama?" Kanae asks, tone disbelieving.

"We won't," Tsukiyama says; his expression seems to settle back into his face, although there's a slightly alarmed light to his eyes. "I promise."

Kanae gazes up at Tsukiyama for a long moment before nodding. Tsukiyama fingers shift over Kanae's hand. Squeezing. Kaneki looks away. To Hinami, who continues watching Tsukiyama and Kanae. Kaneki wonders if he should tell her to look away or if this is something that ghouls do that isn't necessarily private. He wonders if this is something that no one can or will explain to him. It should make Kaneki feel human. It just serves to make him feel isolated.

They wander around the food and drink booths. There's an old-fashioned shaved ice station that has three children with several adults in front of it. Kaneki, despite himself, pauses. He remembers, when he was much younger, his mother taking a day off to take him to Obon. They didn't have much money, but his mother bought him shaved ice with condensed milk and red bean toppings. She wiped his mouth and hands as the ice and sweet syrup dribbled down, laughing so merrily that Kaneki couldn't help but laugh, too.

His mother's laughter. Kaneki hasn't remembered that in so long. 

"Kaneki-niisan?"

Hinami is looking up at him. Kaneki realises that he's been standing and gazing at the shaved ice stand long enough that the people who had been buying from it have moved away and been replaced with new customers. Kaneki forces himself to blink. Breathe in. The air smells of a thousand things he doesn't care to identify.

"Are you okay?"

Kaneki nods. He breathes out. He tries to smile, although he knows Hinami can see right through him. She saw through Tsukiyama ages ago. It's why, Kaneki guesses, she's been able to accept that Tsukiyama has been using them. Hinami has grown so much. Kaneki hadn't stopped to notice.

"Yes," Kaneki says, and he nods to the shaved ice stand. "I really liked that. When I was younger."

She blinks, turning slightly to look at the stand. A slow, soft smile spreads across her face. It moves her eyes. It looks like her mother's smile, when Ryouko looked at Hinami. 

"Oh, that looks refreshing," she says, looking back to Kaneki and beaming. "Do you want one now?"

Kaneki shakes his head. It wouldn't taste at all the same, even if he got the ice plain. Now that he has a ghoul's palate, he can taste all the impurities in the ice, the metal of the machine, the faint taste of the human touch of the shaved ice preparer leaves behind. It's too dangerous, even wearing the eyepatch and having eaten properly for the last few of days.

"Hey, you two!"

Banjou has returned, everyone else trailing after him. He has, for some bizarre reason, a large pink cotton candy stick in hand. Banjou grins widely, bending down to hold it out to Hinami.

"You ever tried this, Hinami-chan?"

Hinam blinks, shaking her head and clearly surprised. Kaneki's gaze drifts to Tsukiyama, who lingers at Banjou's back. He's looking down at the two of them, an amused expression on his face. Just behind his left, Kanae has finally let go of Tsukiyama, if only because Kanae is engaged in the cell phone. Sante and Jiro are chatting about something on Ichimi's phone as well.

"Now just look, don't--ah -"

It draws Kaneki's attention back just in time to see Hinami, with her trusting nature, take a bite out of the cotton candy. Her disgusted, slightly betrayed reaction is predictable. She sputters, waving her hands in front of her face awkwardly. 

"Ah, weird!" Hinami complains as Banjou stares at her in disbelief; from behind Tsukiyama's back, Kaneki can see Kanae squinting in similar bafflement. "I'm sorry, I just really wanted to try one -"

It makes Tsukiyama laugh. It's not at Hinami, though. The look on Tsukiyama's face as he steps forward and extracts a handkerchief from within his yukata is more sympathetic than anything else. It strikes Kaneki that Tsukiyama must have done something similar in the past.

"Here," Tsukiyama says, kneeling down and holding out the handkerchief. "Use this to wipe your charming mouth."

It's a lightly teasing tone. Hinami lets him help her wipe the spit and cotton candy away, her eyes shut the whole time. It clicks then. Hinami's kakugan must be activated. Tsukiyama is giving her time to reground herself. 

Sure enough, when Tsukiyama draws away and Hinami opens her eyes, there's no evidence of what they are. Hinami smiles, sheepish and apologetic, as Tsukiyama presses the handkerchief into her right hand. Kaneki doesn't miss the very focused gaze that Kanae has fixed on Hinami. The handkerchief. Banjou stands up. He breathes out, grinning a little regretfully as he stands up with the cotton candy still in hand. 

"Ah, well," he says, "it's really cool, though, isn't it?"

Hinami nods, smiling again. Kaneki wants to ask why he got cotton candy of all things. For Banjou to purchase something unnecessary and that serves no purpose to any of them, it must have some sort of personal meaning. It's rare, too, that Banjou isn't forthcoming in his reasoning. Kaneki opens his mouth. 

"It's spun sugar, right?"

Banjou and Hinami look at Tsukiyama, who holds out his hands. Kanae's mouth opens, but Banjou is already handing the cotton candy over. For a brief, completely inane moment, Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama is going to take a bite of it as well. He doesn't. Instead, he pats the cotton candy with his free hand, which is just as strange. 

"Ah," he says, and he smiles, open-mouthed and very real. "It really is fluffy!"

Kanae's eyes briefly shut in exasperation and disbelief. Kaneki covers his mouth, unsure if he wants to mirror Kanae's expression or simply enjoy the fact that Tsukiyama is apparently enjoying himself. Hinami brightens, rocking on her feet.

"Right?" she says, and it seems she's recovered from the shock of the taste. "It's weird! It kind of dissolves in the mouth."

Tsukiyama blinks. Gazes at the cotton candy. Thankfully, Banjou has the good sense to reach out and takes the cotton candy back. Tsukiyama pouts at him, but Kaneki can tell at least that is an act. Banjou rolls his eyes.

"You two," Banjou says without any heat. "Brains the size of planets, common sense of a rock."

Kaneki sneezes. Snorts. He covers his mouth and bites his bottom lip. It earns him identical pouts from Tsukiyama and Hinami. It doesn't help. Kaneki laughs. It's muffled by his hand but hard enough he can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He remembers his mother's laughter. It was so very merry.

He hasn't laughed like this in years. 

 

Something has been knocking at the back of Kaneki's brain. He looks up. Around. Feels his brows furrow.

"Where's Tsukiyama-san and Kanae?"

Hinami blinks, looking away from the booth. "There were here a minute ago," she says, a note of surprise in her voice. "Do you think they found a game to play?"

Kaneki, somewhat unfairly, can't help but be alarmed by the idea. Neither Tsukiyama nor Kanae have demonstrated good sense when it comes to how to act like normal human beings at a festival. Kanae clearly doesn't have much exposure to this many humans, and Tsukiyama's behaviour has been vacillating between gentlemanly and extraordinarly childish. The pair of them of together without anyone: Kaneki can already feel his pulse speeding up.

"Oh!" Hinami says, and she points to the right towards a goldfish scooping stall. "There they are."

She's identified Tsukiyama, probably by a combination of his yukata, which stands out for its obvious expense, and his hair. Kaneki can't see Kanae, but it's highly doubtful that Kanae has wandered away from Tsukiyama. As Hinami and Kaneki move through the crowd to join them, it becomes apparent that Kanae is squatting down in front of the fish tank. Kaneki watches Tsukiyama hand over a 100 yen coin for a poi, which the old lady in charge of the booth hands to Kanae. The sight is at once so relieving and so absurd Kaneki feels like he's losing his mind. 

"Ah," Tsukiyama says, catching Kaneki and Hinami's approach, "sorry we wandered off, but I saw this, and Kanae's never played."

Hinami shakes her head, beaming. Kaneki nods, feeling like his brain might fall out of his ears. Kanae accepts the poi from the old lady with a polite nod before looking into the tank. Ignoring Kaneki and Hinami. It's not terribly surprising. Tsukiyama doesn't bother reprimanding him for it, instead shifting his attention to Hinami.

"Would you like to play, Hinami-chan?"

"Oh," Hinami says, and she shakes her head, "no, thank you." 

Tsukiyama's head tilts slightly. "Are you sure?" he asks, hand already drifting towards where he's stashed his wallet in his left sleeve. 

"Yes," Hinami says, and it's impressively gentle and firm at the same time. "I'm terrible at this game."

Tsukiyama blinks. He smiles again, wider than before. He nods before turning away from both Hinami and Kaneki. Kneels down next to Kanae, who appears to be struggling with the poi and the water.

"I don't," Kanae says, very cross, "understand this game."

Kanae's broken the paper of the poi. Tsukiyama laughs, drawing out his wallet and handing the old woman another 100 yen to buy Kanae another. She smiles toothily at him. Her teeth are very yellow. Kaneki glances at Hinami, who looks up at him. Questioning. Kaneki shakes his head, looking back to see Kanae glaring at the new poi. Tsukiyama tucks his wallet back into his sleeve.

"Think of it," Tsukiyama says, looking at Kanae with a soft smile, "like a surface tension equation."

The look Kanae gives Tsukiyama is probably the closest to Kanae's actual age that Kaneki has seen. "Really, Shuu-sama?" he gripes. "I thought I was on vacation."

Tsukiyama laughs again, hands resting flat and slightly turned towards each other over his thighs. His elbows are tucked against his sides. It's a very polite positioning. It's one of Tsukiyama's learned behaviours that are so deeply ingrained they come naturally. Kaneki can see the old woman as well as the mother with her son on the other side of the booth watching him. Tsukiyama, because he is enjoying himself, is giving his upbringing away.

"You are," Tsukiyama says, completely oblivious. "You're the one who insists upon checking the finance section."

"I," Kanae says, turning attention back to the pool, eyebrows drawing together, "happen to _like_ market analysis and accounting. I know you find it mind-numbing, but there's beauty to it."

Tsukiyama just shakes his head. "I'm lucky," he says, and it's a warm, gently teasing tone, "that I have you to foster off all the spreadsheets to."

Kanae breaks the new poi. "Shuu-sama!" and it's somewhere between a whine and a laugh. "I am never going to catch anything at this rate!"

Tsukiyama starts laughing again, fully amused. He tips forwards slightly, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. He's happy, or as close to happy as Kaneki has ever seen him. He's letting himself concentrate on Kanae and Kanae alone, even though Kaneki and Hinami are still standing at their backs. With a sudden flash of insight, Kaneki realises it's because they are at Tsukiyama and Kanae's backs. Tsukiyama feels safe right now. 

It's ironic. This is probably the most exposed they've been since all of this began at the end of December last year. Kaneki remembers very clearly how Tsukiyama handed over the keys to the house they've lived in for eight months.

"This," Tsukiyama had said as they all stood outside of the house, "is the key for the front door. This one is the key to the basement. This one will open the attic, although I don't imagine there's much up there aside from spiders."

It had made Hinami giggle. Kaneki had accepted the keys and their duplicates with a smile. A little later, though, Tsukiyama had pulled Kaneki aside before he left to go home for New Years.

"The basement," Tsukiyama had said, and it was the first time Kaneki saw him without pleasant or theatrical expression, "can be locked from the inside."

So perhaps this isn't ironic. At the time, Kaneki had simply thought how considerate Tsukiyama was, thinking of everything pretty much on the spot. He'd also thought a bit meanly of how wealthy Tsukiyama must be. Kaneki hadn't thought of the obvious: Tsukiyama knew that there was something wrong with Kaneki. Maybe Tsukiyama didn't fear it, but he had known it was there. Knew to cater for it. To be cautious of it. 

Kanae groans, jarring Kaneki out of his thoughts. The third poi that Tsukiyama bought has broken. Hinami burst into giggles as does Tsukiyama, who reaches out to support himself against Kanae's right shoulder. He's laughing so hard that there are tears at the edges of his eyes. Kanae's expression would probably be thunderous if Kaneki didn't recognise the light in the eyes. Kanae watches Tsukiyama with such undisguised love. Trust. It makes Tsukiyama quiet. Smile. It's beautiful.

"I don't like this game," Kanae says, but there's no heat to it.

"We'll try another," Tsukiyama says.

It's like they're actors reading lines, but none of them match their demeanour. Tsukiyama stands up as does Kanae. Tsukiyama reaches out. Touches fingers briefly to Kanae's temples before starting to fix Kanae's hair. It's going wavy in the humidity. Kaneki looks away. To Hinami. She's watching Tsukiyama and Kanae with a soft, contented expression. She looks like her mother.

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama murmurs. 

It draws Kaneki's attention back. Kanae's hair is still going wavy, but Tsukiyama has pinned it neatly out of Kanae's eyes. Kanae is looking at the ground, strangely closed off. The fingers of Kanae's left hand are curled into the fabric of Tsukiyama's right sleeve. If Kaneki didn't know better, they would look like highborn siblings, stepped out of the past into the present.

"We should," Tsukiyama says, and he smiles, white teeth and red eyes, "head on."

 

The rest of the afternoon and early evening goes by fairly uneventfully. Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante return only to run off to join one of the dances. Banjou lingers for a few minutes, speaking to Tsukiyama in low tones. It's too noisy with the taiko drums starting for Kaneki to catch what they say. Hinami has gone quiet and a little withdrawn by Kaneki's side, her thoughts turning again towards the reason they're all actually here.

"Alright," Banjou says, raising his voice back to regular volume, "I'll see you all in an hour at the bridge."

Kaneki looks back just in time to see Banjou touch Tsukiyama's left elbow very briefly before turning and following after Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante. Kaneki doesn't miss the way Kanae zones in on the contact, eyes flicking up at Tsukiyama, to Banjou's retreating back, and then back to Tsukiyama, who looks back down. Kanae blinks. Nods. Accepting whatever has just passed. It makes Tsukiyama smile, one of his real ones. It solves a mystery that Kaneki has been trying to solve all week regarding Tsukiyama and Banjou.

They've become friends. Real friends. It's not just Kaneki that Tsukiyama has been gambling on, nor is it just Kaneki that Tsukiyama wanted Kanae's opinion on. For whatever reason, even though Kanae hates Kaneki, Kanae has accepted Banjou. 

"We'll meet up again for the lanterns," Tsukiyama says before nodding to the Bon odori. "Do you want to join them?"

Kaneki shakes his head before turning to Hinami, who had perked up. "You should go," Kaneki says; he tries his best to smile encouragingly. "The dance is very easy to learn."

Hinami smiles up at Kaneki, but there's a wobble to her mouth. "I know," she says, very soft and a little high. "Papa used to take me," she says, hiccuping to swallow a sob. "Every year."

Oh. Kaneki reaches out. Puts his hands on her shoulders. Hinami sniffs. Swallows. She blinks rapidly. She doesn't want to cry. To draw attention to them. She wanted today to be good. To be happy. This is her only chance to celebrate her parents. Around them, people mill about, hurrying to join the Bon odori.

Under Kaneki's hands, Hinami squares her shoulders. She blinks a couple of times before smiling. Her eyes shine, but they move with the smile. She takes a step back. Kaneki lets her go.

"I'm going to dance," she says before turning to Kanae, who blinks at her in faint surprise. "Join us, Kanae?"

Kanae blinks, clearly taken back. "I -" Kanae starts, gaze flicking up to Tsukiyama. "I -"

Tsukiyama nods. Presses his fingers lightly to Kanae's cheek. Kanae smiles. It's a warm, very loving thing.

"You love dancing," Tsukiyama murmurs. "Go."

For a single, uncontrolled moment, Kanae's face opens. Beams. It's the first time, Kaneki realises, that Kanae has looked happy. It makes Tsukiyama smile as well. It reaches his eyes.

"Thank you, Shuu-sama!" Kanae says, forgetting the circumstances for a moment and bowing. "I won't be long -"

"Go," Tsukiyama says, a light, warm laugh. "Don't worry. Have fun."

Kanae grins. Turns and moves. Kaneki watches Hinami and Kanae hurry off to join Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante as the crowd begins to take their places for the start of the dances. It makes Kaneki smile a little as he watches Banjou's brief look of surprise and then joy. Next to Kaneki, Tsukiyama breathes out. A half-laugh, half-sigh.

"It's so good," Tsukiyama says, warm and heartfelt, "to see them happy."

Kaneki nods. Folds his arms and stands on his heels. The taiko start up as does the music on the overhead speakers. Next to him, Tsukiyama looks up, held tilting back and forth as he picks out where the speakers are. He doesn't appear threatened. It's an unconscious habit. Tsukiyama does it when they're out collecting information, looking for cameras and for sources of music. He doesn't seem to realise he's doing it. He's probably been checking his surroundings his entire life.

"Have you," Kaneki asks as the crowd begins to sing along, "ever been to Obon?"

Tsukiyama looks at Kaneki. His lips twitch. He looks like he's about to laugh, but he doesn't. He's remembering something.

"Yes," he says, and he finally lets himself laugh, soft puffs of breath. "When Setsuna-jii was alive. And then once. Two years ago. Just Kanae and I. It is," and Tsukiyama looks away, out to the water and the lanterns, "customary to stop buying lanterns after reaching adulthood."

It's another difference between ghouls and humans. Kanae is an adult as a ghoul. Has been since the age of thirteen. Tsukiyama had said once, back when Kaneki still didn't understand anything of him, that Kanae is fifteen. They are both too old for lanterns. That Tsukiyama has made it possible to allow Kanae a lantern: it shows that there is a yearning. A softness. It shouldn't be there because their world is cruel and harsh, but it is. 

Tsukiyama sees the understanding on Kaneki's face. It makes his smile wobble, but he holds onto the pleasant expression valiantly. Today is supposed to be a good day.

"Do you," and Tsukiyama looks like he'd like to laugh at himself, "think I'm stupid?"

"No." 

There is no hesitation. Stupid is not a word that Kaneki would use to describe Tsukiyama. There are a lot of other words. Beautiful and handsome, manipulative and harsh. Loud and a little socially awkward, but brilliant and thoughtful. Sometimes too soft and sad, and maybe more than a little misguided. Lonely and self-detrimental but loving and generous and hospitable and polite. He's everything that Kaneki isn't. Everything that Kaneki wishes he could be. It's all what makes him so easy for Kaneki to love.

Tsukiyama's smile becomes smaller. Easier for him to fake. He turns his gaze back towards the dancing crowd. Kanae has found the rhythm of the dance, and Hinami is leading everyone in their small group. She's smiling, and her movements are flowing. Exact. Confident. Behind them, Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante move in varying levels of competence but clearly having fun. The beat of the drums wars with the singing dancers and tinny overhead music.

"I," Tsukiyama whispers, only audible because Kaneki is standing so close, "am a fool."

Kaneki swallows. He doesn't look away from the dancing, even though their party has cycled around the drum stand. The crowd shouts and moves as the summer heat presses down.

Kaneki is a fool, too.

 

The Sumida Park Shinsui Terrace near Azuma-bashi is very crowded, even though it's thirty minutes before the lanterns will be released. Families mingle, looking over the lantern stalls. Tsukiyama leads them for the moment, since he'd been the one to arrange how their lanterns would get here. They couldn't carry the lanterns themselves. It's against the rules nowadays to bring homemade lanterns. 

"Tsukiyama-san!"

Kaneki's head whips in the direction of the familiar voice to see Fukaku Ayumi weaving towards them. Kaneki's brain feels like it's short-circuiting. What -

"Ah," Tsukiyama says, and he raises a hand. "Ayumi-obachan!"

Obachan? Kaneki blinks. Feels his stomach flip. Ayumi is dressed in the uniform of a worker at the festival. She wears a badge for the Asakusa Tourist Federation. Their lantern bags are in her hands. She's smiling, the cheerful look she always had when she sat down to coffee and lunch at Anteiku.

"I'm so glad I made it in time," she says as she draws up by Tsukiyama, holding out the lantern bags. "It's my first time working a festival, and I -" her gaze shifts slightly, catching sight of Kaneki; her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! Is that you, Kaneki-kun? What's happened to your hair? Did you dye it? What a shocking white!"

Kaneki doesn't know what to say to that. He tries to smile, aware that it's either too toothy or too self-conscious. Kanae takes the lantern bags before stepping around Tsukiyama and in front of Kaneki to hand Banjou his and Hinami hers. Tsukiyama laughs lightly, drawing Ayumi's attention back. Kaneki feels like he owes Kanae for that. 

"How are you?" Tsukiyama asks as Ayumi reaches up and wipes sweat from her brow. "Uncle has been treating you well?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Ayumi says, although Kaneki can see her lips shift slightly; a more sober expression. "You shouldn't worry about us, Tsukiyama-san. We're newlyweds still! There's a lot to learn about each other."

Tsukiyama opens his mouth. Shuts it. He stares at Ayumi for a moment, clearly at a loss of what to say. Because Kanae is still standing facing Kaneki, the expression of internal screaming is very clear. Kaneki has no idea what Tsukiyama's uncle is like, but Kaneki is fairly sure he's never heard anything positive regarding him. That Ayumi married him, married into the Tsukiyama family -

"I," Tsukiyama says, recovering himself and smiling pleasantly, "only wish for your happiness."

"I am happy," Ayumi says, although Kaneki knows that isn't an unequivocally happy tone in her voice; it's not all like how she enjoyed her coffee. "I have to head back now, but please enjoy tonight! I want to hear all about it the next time we see each other," and she's already pulling away, waving as she heads back up the pathway to the bridge. "It's good to see you, too, Kaneki-san!"

Kaneki lifts his hand. Waves. Tsukiyama does the same. As soon as Ayumi turns her back, Tsukiyama drops his hand to his side. He stares for a long moment after her. His eyes are vacant. He's not seeing her. The silence makes Kanae shift. Turns back. 

"Shuu-sama -"

"Kanae," Tsukiyama says, and it's soft and very low, "you should go now. Ayumi can't hold the spot forever."

Kanae tightens hold on the lantern bag. Inclines the head. It's like a bow, but there's too much emotion to maintain the formality. 

"I -"

Tsukiyama shakes his head. He smiles, motioning slightly. Kanae straightens. They exchange a look. Kanae's expression crumples. 

"Go on," Tsukiyama whispers.

Kanae nods. Blinks rapidly before turning back to everyone else. Kanae smiles. It's an expression that Kaneki recognises so well he's growing to hate it. It's that fake smile: pleasant, pleasing, and placid. Empty.

"Please," Kanae says, but it isn't Kanae's voice; it's the servant, the role, "if everyone would follow me."

Kaneki bites his lip. He looks at Banjou, who looks alarmed. Hinami is looking down. They have their lanterns. They have to go onto the bridge. That's what they're here for. Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante need to go, too; the lantern Banjou holds is for them as well. Kaneki looks at Hinami. She gazes up at him, unblinking. Knowing. She smiles. Understanding. It's such a mature look.

"We'll be back soon, Kaneki-niisan," she says, reaching out and taking Banjou's free hand.

Banjou looks back and forth between Kaneki and Tsukiyama. Kaneki swallows. Tsukiyama isn't looking at any of them. He's looking towards the bridge where people are starting to crowd. Banjou swallows. Grits his teeth.

"You two will wait here?"

Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama doesn't respond. Banjou's jaw works for a long moment. Behind him, Kanae stands. Polite. Proper. Closed off and utterly remote. Hinami tugs Banjou's hand. 

They turn away, Kanae leading them into the crowd. Kaneki takes a couple steps forward, coming up by Tsukiyama's elbow. Their sleeves brush. It stirs Tsukiyama out of himself. He looks to Kaneki. The heat has made him sweat enough that his careful concealer and foundation has smudged close up. He looks tired. He doesn't attempt to smile.

"Would you like some coffee, Kaneki-san?"

Kaneki nods. They'd passed a couple of food and drink vendors a little bit back. Tsukiyama shifts, moving back towards the way they'd come. Kaneki turns as well. They walk for a few minutes before they come to the vendor. It's not very crowded. It's not the weather for hot drinks.

Tsukiyama orders. Two coffees. Black. Hot, please, yes. Kaneki lets him pay. It's Tsukiyama's money anyways. 

"Why didn't you go with Kanae?"

Tsukiyama accepts the cup from the vendor. He turns, moving back slightly so that Kaneki can accept the next. Kaneki holds the cup with both hands, even though it's hot and unpleasant in the humid weather. He turns just as Tsukiyama begins to move away from the vendor. Heading towards a bench that faces the bridge. Kaneki follows.

They sit down on the bench. On the bridge, the candles are being lit. Kaneki can't see where their group is, but they must be among the crowd. Kaneki pulls the plastic top off the paper cup. Watches the steam rise off. Imagines the ink on the candles burning away as soon as the flame touches the wax. 

"I can't."

Kaneki frowns. "Why not?"

Tsukiyama looks down. At his coffee. The cover is still on. He lifts his right hand to remove it.

"Because," Tsukiyama says to his coffee, "I'm a hypocrite." 

Kaneki nearly spills his coffee all over himself. Tsukiyama sets the cover of his coffee to his left. Kaneki palms sweat against the styrofoam. He swallows.

On the bridge, the lanterns are being lowered. The water ripples, light up with hundreds of candles. The tiny lights bob. Wishes and grief. Souls going back to the water. Back to earth. Kaneki breathes in. Breathes out. 

In another world, in another life, none of this would have happened.

Next to Kaneki, Tsukiyama lifts his coffee to his mouth. He sips it before lowering it to hold close to his upper chest. Warming himself. He's cold, even in this heat.

"I can't," Tsukiyama says, very softly, "accept your feelings."

Kaneki nods. He knew this. Still -

"But," and Tsukiyama looks at him; he's so beautiful, "it is not your fault. You don't need to blame yourself just because you've hurt someone. I know that's what you think. You haven't hurt me."

Kaneki clenches his fists. Tsukiyama looks away, back out at the lanterns heading down the river. Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama was trying to make him feel better. Trying to soften the blow. It didn't work. To hear Tsukiyama say something like that: it's just as painful. It's the kind of thing Kaneki knows that he would say, if he was in Tsukiyama's position. Tsukiyama doesn't value himself. Not nearly as much as he should. 

"Tsukiyama-san," and this is such a hypocritical statement, but they're both hypocrites, "you need to take better care of yourself."

It makes Tsukiyama blink. Look back. His eyes are a little wide, and his lips are slightly parted. In the light on the bridge and the lanterns in the water, he looks very young and very vulnerable. Kaneki knows that Tsukiyama has been an adult for years, but that doesn't change the fact that Tsukiyama is twenty-two. He's only three years older than Kaneki. He's sweet in disposition, and he cares about others to his detriment. 

This is what Kanae tried to make Kaneki see, back at the beginning of the week when Kanae demanded Kaneki take responsibility. Tsukiyama, for all of his genius, is terrible at expressing himself. It's not so surprising now that Kaneki understands he's been expected to be something he's simply not for the majority of his life. He didn't have a chance to develop productive or adequate methods to be himself. Tsukiyama, like Kaneki, has something broken inside of him. But, unlike Kaneki, whatever is broken inside of Tsukiyama has been broken for so long that Tsukiyama doesn't even know it's broken. Tsukiyama just thinks that's how he is.

Kaneki wants to help him, but he knows he can't. He doesn't know how to tell Tsukiyama that he isn't fundamentally broken. He doesn't know how to tell Tsukiyama that he will wait, if only Tsukiyama will ask. He doesn't know how to tell Tsukiyama that as much as he wants revenge, he also wants to help Tsukiyama, wants to stay by Tsukiyama's side. Kaneki will throw down the glove to Society, will dine with the worst of them, if only Tsukiyama would let him help. If only Tsukiyama would let him in. 

Slowly, Tsukiyama's expression softens. His lips pull, but it's not one of his usual smiles. It's an unfamiliar one, strangely both warm and withdrawn. As Kaneki watches, Tsukiyama shifts, setting his coffee down to his left. He turns to face Kaneki fully. His eyes have a faint glow to them. A sheen. He's about to cry.

"Will you do me a favour, Kaneki-san?"

Kaneki nods. "Anything," he says, and, in that moment, he means it.

Tsukiyama blinks. Swallows. No tears escape. Up on the bridge, the crowd has started moving. They're running out of time. The lanterns continue on down the river, carrying away wishes. The names of the dead who have no graves. The way is shut.

"Please," Tsukiyama whispers, "kiss me."

There is no hesitation. There never could be. Kaneki sets his coffee cup on the ground before surging up. He fists his hands in the yukata, leaning up to meet Tsukiyama. Kaneki feels Tsukiyama tangle his fingers in Kaneki's hair, feels the press of Tsukiyama's lips and tongue. Kaneki parts his lips. Gives. Tsukiyama breathes into his mouth. A sob. He pulls Kaneki's hair to signal Kaneki should pull back but not away. 

Their foreheads rest against each other. Kaneki's eyes are open. He watches tears track down from Tsukiyama's, which remain shut. With his hands raised and cupping the sides of Kaneki's head, their expressions, the truth of how they are, is still hidden from view. It makes something bloom in Kaneki's chest just as it carves deeply into his heart.

"I have been," Tsukiyama whispers, so soft it would be inaudible if they weren't this close, "happy these past few days."

Kaneki swallows. Fists his hands in the yukata. Against Tsukiyama's chest.

"I am," Kaneki says, whispers, shouts, "happy, too."

It is not a lie. It is the only truth in the world. It makes Tsukiyama smile. Laugh. Like he does at fashion and food. Sincere. Real. So, so beautiful. Kaneki smiles. Laughs. A merry, almost forgotten sound. 

Tsukiyama leans forward.

They kiss.

Kaneki is happy.

 

Lanterns drift downstream. Carried, lazily, beyond. To sink or burn up.

It was a good day.


	17. Stock Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I got an email," Tsukiyama says, like it explains everything.

There are some things that are meant to happen.

Tsukiyama gives Kaneki the Ghoul Restaurant to eat. It's selfish. Kaneki devours and devours, the seed beneath his skin blossoming in rot. Tsukiyama wipes clean an unsavoury part of his past. Kaneki understands that this is the intention, doesn't dare ask if they're his friends. Kaneki kneels among the corpses, a feasting god. Rize rattles his brain. Banjou and Tsukiyama sit by the exits. Banjou looks down. Tsukiyama up into the sky.

Tsukiyama doesn't talk to Kaneki for two days. Not because he's upset with Kaneki. He's upset with himself. He spends nearly all of those two days in his room. Banjou attempts to talk to him late on the evening of the second day, but only after Kaneki announces he's going to bed. It draws Tsukiyama out, his hair in disarray, eyes shadowed. Kaneki spies on them while they sit on the couch together. Banjou turns the television from the news to game shows and late night comedians. Tsukiyama, wrapped in his comforter, stares at the television until he dozes off against Banjou's shoulder. Kaneki doesn't go to them. It's not his place.

For a time, Tsukiyama recovers. He helps them collect more intelligence and analyses the additional work they receive from Hori. He's able to fake his smiles and chatter charmingly as he always has. But he doesn't look at Kaneki. They're not alone together as much as they were before. It hurts, but Kaneki doesn't know how to address it. They don't have downtime. Tsukiyama is always going somewhere, always busy. Kaneki eats and eats and grows stronger.

There is no time to dwell on this. Kaneki fights Sachi. Once. Twice. He finds Kanou and Rize deep in the lab. Tsukiyama and Banjou fight the CCG and some strangers in Yamori's white suits. Kaneki loses himself for a while, inching closer to a full kakuja, that pinnacle of power that Kaneki knows Tsukiyama once desired him to achieve. Tsukiyama doesn't care. Banjou got lost. He makes it back to them, but Tsukiyama cries about it late that night when he thinks no one is awake in the house. 

The world seems to fall apart. It puts itself back together again, more distorted and uglier than before. Kaneki talks to Yoshimura, but it's Touka's words that ring in his ears. 

_Why did you have to change?_

Kaneki disbands their group. It's selfish. He can't take watching everyone get hurt. He was wrong. It wasn't Rize. It wasn't even Yamori. It was Kanou and Kaneki, and Kaneki has dragged them all into it. He has to let them out. Anteiku is Kaneki's last chance. The only way he can hope to protect these people he cares for. The only one who Kaneki can't protect is Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama looks at him across the room, but when Kaneki tries to catch his eye, he looks away.

"Are you coming with us?" Kaneki asks, desperate and selfish, standing in the doorway to Tsukiyama's bedroom.

Tsukiyama sits at his desk. His laptop is open. There's a text document on the main portion and what looks like a spreadsheet on the split. He works constantly nowadays, even when they aren't out fighting or sparring or information collecting. When he isn't working, he's cooking with Hinami or dozing on the couch with Banjou. He's becoming progressively quieter. Thinner. Kanae comes by on Saturdays and stays over into Sunday, bringing flowers that decorate the apartment. It's the only night nowadays that Kaneki wakes from nightmares and doesn't find Tsukiyama already up. 

"To Anteiku?" Tsukiyama murmurs before shaking his head. "No, I can't go back there."

Kaneki breathes in. Clenches his fists.

"Why?"

Tsukiyama looks back to his work. Kaneki had to turn the main light on in the room. If he hadn't, they would be talking in the dark with only the computer screen for light. 

"It is the 20th Ward safe haven," Tsukiyama murmurs, and he lifts his left hand, tapping out the save command. "I no longer live in the 20th Ward."

Kaneki frowns. "Your apartment -"

"I sold it," Tsukiyama says, extending his left hand to swipe at the screen; the spreadsheet takes over. "It was a fire hazard."

This is true. Kaneki can't exactly console Tsukiyama about the apartment when it clearly was on that fine line between just habitable and a detriment to health. Kaneki leans back against the door frame and the space on the wall by the light switch. Watches Tsukiyama tap the screen. Scroll through numbers in red and black.

"Then where -"

"This house will stand," Tsukiyama says, tapping the screen once more before shifting to start typing, "for you and everyone else. But," and Tsukiyama breathes out on the word, eyes staring through the screen, "it is time that I went home."

Kaneki swallows. Tsukiyama shifts. Leans back in the desk chair. Kaneki cracks his knuckles. Opens his mouth.

"This harmonious family," Tsukiyama whispers, and he looks away, towards the window he always keeps covered. "I'm glad that you include me."

Kaneki wants to take the two and a half steps that would bring them together. He wants to lean in and kiss Tsukiyama. Pull him close. Kaneki can't. Not without hurting Tsukiyama. It isn't something Tsukiyama will admit to, but Kaneki isn't so thick. Since the Ghoul Restaurant, they haven't done any of that. It was selfish of both of them, but it hurt Tsukiyama more. 

It's not, Kaneki thinks as he tries to find a rhythm back at Anteiku, like they broke up. They were never together to begin with. They had a week, a fleeting fantasy in which they played house and pretended that they were more than two people using each other for their own ends. Kaneki covets that week, the days they spent together learning about each other. He covets the memory of Tsukiyama's cooking. He covets the memory of the way Tsukiyama tasted when they kissed. Most of all, he covets the memories of Tsukiyama's smiles. The rare, real ones. 

That is what Kaneki thinks about, standing a rooftop as the world falls apart. He thinks about Tsukiyama, who he hasn't seen since they returned to the 20th Ward. He thinks about the empty room in the house, Tsukiyama's clothing gone along with his books and computer. He left early in the morning on Wednesday, and Matsumae came with a couple other ghouls in suits to take Tsukiyama's things. Tsukiyama comes by during the day on Thursdays, dropping off food. Kaneki tries his best to be out at the time. He wishes, as he stares down at the CCG formations, that he hadn't. 

"Tsukiyama-san doesn't say it, but I think he hopes he'll see you," Hinami said only a couple of days ago.

"He's gotten me a job," Banjou told Kaneki a week and a half ago, standing by Kaneki at the coffeemaker. "They need a handyman on an estate."

Kaneki regrets it. Regrets pulling away even though that was exactly what Tsukiyama did. Of all the people that have filled Kaneki's life since he became what he is, he regrets the things that he did to Tsukiyama the most. He regrets rushing everything. Using Tsukiyama for his misguided revenge. Biting Tsukiyama's neck. Tsukiyama used Kaneki, too, but that's the way the world is. How this convoluted life where ghouls must eat but are hunted by their prey works. There's only wrongs and worse wrongs. Between Kaneki and Tsukiyama, Kaneki knows that his actions were the worse. 

Kaneki, even now, wants -

"Are you going to leave without saying good-bye?"

It makes Kaneki start. Turn. It makes his bangs move across his face. Drip into his eyes. A light drizzle has been coming down steadily. Back by the stairwell, Tsukiyama stands, dressed in a coat over a suit. Leather business shoes. His hair is neat. He looks like he came from work. Tsukiyama, from what Hinami and Banjou have said, has begun to take over his family company. 

"How -"

"I got an email," Tsukiyama says, like it explains everything.

Maybe it does. Tsukiyama moves forward until he and Kaneki are standing next to each other, looking down over the battle below. Kaneki looks at him. His coat looks like it's more appropriate for late fall or winter. He's thin. His hair is longer, fringe partially obscuring his left eye. Kaneki nearly reaches out to push it away. Tuck it behind his ear.

"Can't you see," Tsukiyama whispers, even though there's no one here to hear them, "how many there are?"

Kaneki looks back down. The CCG below. The faint sounds of fighting. Loudspeakers. Screaming. The rain smells sour. Polluted. 

"If you," and it's the way Tsukiyama says it that makes Kaneki look back; Tsukiyama doesn't look at him, his gaze cast down to Kaneki's mask, "just think a little bit, you'll understand there's nothing to be done."

Tsukiyama is saying this because he understands. He knows how Kaneki feels. Maybe the path that Tsukiyama has chosen isn't as overtly violent as what lies down below, but if his physical appearance is anything to go by, Tsukiyama choosing his family is eating him alive. Kaneki was his gamble for freedom. Kaneki would have kept Tsukiyama if he could. But he couldn't, no more than Tsukiyama could keep Kaneki. Theirs is not a love story.

"I don't want," Kaneki says, and it must be his tone, honest as Kaneki never has been with him, that makes Tsukiyama look up, back, "to be unable to do anything."

Tsukiyama looks at him. Kaneki looks back. There are shadows under Tsukiyama's eyes. In the curve of his cheeks. The light drizzle creates tiny, almost imperceptible blemishes in the foundation and concealer. Tsukiyama blinks. He breathes out. A long sigh.

"I..."

Kaneki breathes in. Tsukiyama smells of salt. He's about to cry. It makes Kaneki shift towards Tsukiyama. Closing the distance. The look on Tsukiyama's face is one that Kaneki will never forget as long as he lives. Tsukiyama smiles with his entire face. He looks so sincere. So warm. So horribly, horribly sad.

He reaches out. Cups Kaneki's cheeks. Tsukiyama leans down. His eyes are very red.

"I," Tsukiyama whispers, "like you, too."

It's the last thing Kaneki knows before a blow to the back of his head knocks him out.

 

Kaneki wakes. The room is dim but not dark. He's lying on a soft bed under a warm blanket and between soft sheets. It smells clean, and the air in the room is fresh. 

Kaneki sits up. Looks around. The room isn't familiar, although he had already known that. It is a rather large room, expensively furnished with a wardrobe, desk, desk chair. Drapes are drawn over what might be floor length windows, and the door that presumably leads into a hall is slightly open. There's a glass of water on the bedside table along with a lamp and a small digital clock. Kaneki scoots to the edge of the bed. Grabs the clock.

It's four-thirteen in the afternoon, five days since the CCG came down on Anteiku.

_I like you, too._

Kaneki's stomach sinks. He looks down. He's dressed in pajamas with long sleeves and full trousers. It's a pale grey colour. There are no patterns. There are no aches or pains. He feels well-rested. Healthy. Clear-headed. Someone has taken very good care of him.

Someone hit him over the head.

Kaneki swallows. There are two doors, both of which are slightly ajar. One leads to a bathroom. The other presumably out to what looks like a hallway. There are house slippers next to the door. It's as if someone expected him to wake soon. It makes Kaneki's stomach twist. Did he sleep so long because he was supposed to? Has someone been drugging him? 

Carefully, Kaneki stands. There is no vertigo. He is steady on his feet. He crosses the room to the house slippers. Slips them on and pushes open the door. The hallway is partially carpeted. The walls are wooden with floral designs in the paneling. There are several other doors, all of which are shut. At one end of the hall is a tall window that looks out onto a stormy day. There's a faint sound of wind. Kaneki guesses this isn't the ground floor.

Kaneki steps out onto the carpet. He is just about to head towards the short stairwell on the other end of the hall when Kanae appears as if on cue. Kanae has a book and a folded dressing robe tucked under arm. For a moment, Kanae blinks at Kaneki before frowning. It's such a familiar expression. It grounds Kaneki. Starts to wake him up for real.

"Ah," Kanae says, crossing the short distance to hold out the dressing robe and book, "Shuu-sama was right. You do heal quickly."

There is a roaring starting in Kaneki's ears. Kaneki looks down at the towel and book before returning his gaze to Kanae. Kanae doesn't react to what Kaneki knows must be a very threatening expression.

"Where is he?"

Kanae's jaw clenches. "Shuu-sama is indisposed," Kanae says, and it's only the raw light to the expression that keeps Kaneki from lashing out. "I'm only here to give you this and then show you to the library."

It's cruel, but Kaneki is cruel. "Why should I go with you?"

It only draws a derisive snort. "You shouldn't," Kanae says, harsh and angry and terribly, terribly honest. "You're the reason Shuu-sama is suffering. He's taken in all of the other strays who care about you, too, for some incomprehensible reason."

Kaneki blinks. "Strays?"

Kanae's lips curl. If there was less manners beaten in, Kanae would probably spit on Kaneki. The disdain is completely clear.

"Hinami-chan, Banjou-san, and those weird siblings," Kanae says, motioning slightly with the book and dressing robe. "They're in the library. Either take these and let me show you there, or go jump out the window and run away. I don't care."

_If you hurt Shuu-sama, I will hunt you down and eat your heart._

If Kaneki leaves now, Kanae will make good of that promise. There is nothing Kanae cares about more than Tsukiyama. Kaneki hasn't had a one on one conversation with Kanae since they stood on the balcony together back at the hotel. Before that, Kanae had seemed like the final barrier between Tsukiyama and Kaneki. Now, standing in the hallways in what Kaneki can only guess is Tsukiyama's house, Kaneki realises he didn't even know where the barriers started. 

Kaneki cracks his knuckles. Kanae doesn't react. Stares at Kaneki impassively, dressing robe and book held out. A perfect servant. A perfect ghoul.

"How did I get here."

Ghouls far older than Kanae have run screaming from that tone. Kanae simply stares at Kaneki. Unmoving. Undaunted. Kanae smiles. It's cruel, harsh, and utterly smug.

"I smashed your skull in," Kanae says, and there's no hiding the pleasure. "Now will you come to the library or not?"

Kaneki clenches his teeth. Kanae's smile doesn't move. It won't. Kanae's pleasure is honest and real, born out of love and dedication to Tsukiyama, who cares for Kanae more than life itself. Kanae, to Kaneki's knowledge, is fifteen years old. A year older than Hinami. Only four years younger than Kaneki. When Kaneki was fifteen, he lived with his aunt. It was an empty, painful existence, lonely in the most basic ways. Hide was his only friend, a bright, intense light in Kaneki's life. Kaneki pushed Hide away. 

Across from him, Kanae's eyes roll. Kanae turns, moving back towards the stairwell. Not for the first time, Kaneki wonders what sort of kagune Kanae has. How much of a risk it would be to attack Kanae from the back.

If Kaneki has learned anything over the past year, it is that he is a bad person.

Kaneki takes a deep breath before following. Kanae heads down the stairs, stepping in such a way that it's soundless. The stairwell leads down to into another, wider hallway. A man with dark hair and woman with light walk past in identical uniforms to what Kanae is wearing. Their gazes pass from Kanae to Kaneki and lingering briefly before looking away. 

After about five minutes of walking through hallways and interconnecting rooms, they come upon a set of double doors. Kanae shifts the folded robe and book to the left arm. Kaneki stops a couple paces away as Kanae turns, once more holding out the robe and book. 

"The library is one of the colder rooms," Kanae says, polite and bland.

Kaneki grinds his teeth. Cracks his knuckles. He doesn't know how much of this is something Kanae is required to do and how much of it is mocking. 

"Don't worry about me."

Kanae smiles. Cruel and harsh and utterly _ghoul_.

"I don't," Kanae says.

Kanae turns and walks away in the opposite direction of where they came. Kaneki watches as Kanae turns left. With such light steps, it's as if Kanae disappears. Kaneki is left standing in white house slippers and grey pajamas in front of closed double doors. 

There are two options. Kaneki could open the double doors. Kaneki could run away. But if Kaneki runs now, Kanae would still come after him. Through the window, it's raining. Kaneki has no idea where they are aside from the 9th Ward. Kaneki isn't dressed for the rain. He wouldn't make it more than five steps from the house.

There is only one option. Kaneki turns. Puts his hands on the door knobs. Turns them and pushes.

"Kaneki-niisan!"

Hinami hits Kaneki like a bullet train. Kaneki yells in shock, toppling over backwards as Hinami's arms tighten around his waist with all the force in her body. Kaneki's head smashes against the floor, bouncing with a hollow crack on the hardwood floor of the hall. Stars fill his vision. A high wail escapes Hinami, muffled against Kaneki's chest. 

"You're here," she sobs. "You're _here_."

Kaneki stares up at the ceiling, head spinning. "Hi -"

"You're staying," she says, and it's hysterical, completely and utterly. "Please tell me you're _staying_ -"

Kaneki sucks in a breath; he feels like he's about to be ill. "Hi -"

"Hinami-chan," Banjou's voice murmurs before Banjou himself steps into Kaneki's spinning field of vision, "let him up. His head just healed, you know."

There's a high, broken noise. Hinami shifts off of Kaneki. It leaves Kaneki with the task of sitting up. His head spins. Kaneki reaches up, touching his fingers gingerly to the back of his head. It's tender and likely to swell, but it doesn't feel like he broke his skull. His hair is a little short, though. Kaneki wonders how deep Kanae smashed his skull.

"Hey," Banjou says, squatting down next to Kaneki. "You gave us quite a scare."

Kaneki looks at him. It doesn't help. Banjou is smiling, but his eyes are afraid. He's wearing a sweater that's more expensive than Kaneki has ever seen him wear. The pants he's wearing match what Kanae and the people they passed in the halls were wearing. Kaneki hadn't paid attention, but he would guess that Banjou is wearing the same shoes. Banjou's smile twists into a grimace. He knows what Kaneki is looking at.

"I thought you got a job."

Banjou nods. "I did," he says, and Banjou has never lied to Kaneki. "This is the estate."

Banjou is good at radios and old-fashioned communications technology. Tsukiyama had once said that his family owned a ham radio. Banjou wasn't withholding the information. Kaneki never thought to ask. Kaneki stares at Banjou, who gazes back. It's not regret. 

It's pity. 

Kaneki looks away. To Hinami. She stares at him, eyes huge and watery. She has a handkerchief in her hands, clenched over her knees. Kaneki has never seen the skirt she's wearing. It's long and complex in a manner Kaneki doesn't completely understand. It's decorated with hydrangea.

"How -" 

Kaneki starts and stops. He doesn't know what he wants to ask. Hinami swallows. Sniffs. More tears streak down her cheeks.

"Matsumae-san came and picked us up."

The woman that came with Kanae when they went shopping. Tsukiyama had described her as sort of like a governess. A teacher. Kaneki breathes in. It doesn't clear his head at all. It must show on Kaneki's face because Hinami drops her gaze.

"We've been waiting for you," Hinami whispers, "to wake up."

Kaneki swallows. His hands are fisted in his lap. He looks up and immediately wishes he hadn't. He feels his mouth open. 

"What is this?"

There are rows upon rows of bookshelves all jampacked with books. There are couches and a reading table in the middle of it all where Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante are sitting and watching the goings-on. Kaneki looks up to a high ceiling with a stained glass skylight. It's more elegant than any library that Kaneki has been in. It's more elegant, perhaps, than anywhere Kaneki has been in his life. 

It is one of the colder rooms in the house.

"It's the library," Hinami says, very soft and very hesitant.

Kaneki looks back to her. She's wiping her face with the handkerchief. She's wearing new hairpins. They crisscross over each other, little red and purple stones on the edges. They sparkle under the light, tiny, perfect fractures. Rubies and amethyst.

Something very ugly blooms in Kaneki's chest. He pushes himself up, leaving behind the house slippers. The floor is cool beneath his feet and very smooth. 

"Where is he."

It's very loud. It fill the massive room. Kaneki looks to Banjou, who remains crouched and looking up. Kaneki cracks his knuckles.

"Where is Tsukiyama-san?"

Banjou eyes him for a long moment. Kaneki can feel his blood rushing. His kakugan must be showing. There's a tittering in the back of his brain, kagune shifting beneath his skin.

"He," Banjou says, very carefully, like Kaneki is about to explode; maybe he is, "should be in his room."

 _Crack_. "And where's that?"

Banjou's eyes shift to Kaneki's hands. Back to his face. Kaneki is scaring Banjou. Kaneki cannot bring himself to care.

"It's down the hall. There's a large staircase. If you take it up and to the right -"

That's all Kaneki needs to hear. He whirls around, red coating his vision. Tsukiyama, that manipulative, elitist -

"Kaneki-san."

He stops. Turns back. Banjou has stood up. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. No one else is looking at Kaneki. Hinami's eyes have not moved from her lap. Kaneki wonders if she'll ever look at him again.

"Please try to restrain yourself," Banjou says, low and beseeching; Kaneki can see how much this hurts him. "He's really not well."

Kaneki turns. Pushes the library doors open and leaves them. He turns in the opposite direction he came, hoping to find the main stairs soon.

If Kanae hunts Kaneki down after this, Kaneki won't fight. He'll let Kanae take his heart. It is Kanae's right.

Tsukiyama has brought this on himself.

 

It's not difficult to find Tsukiyama's room. It's not a room. It's more like a sub-wing of the mansion. Kaneki can tell it's Tsukiyama's because the decor changes. Not overmuch but enough that Kaneki recognises it. The carpet has faint patterns of lilac and lavender. There's a fresh flower arrangement on the small table at the end of the hall. Chrysanthemums, curiously white and out of season. There's books and magazines neatly stacked on the side tables. There's what looks like a study from an open door lined with bookshelves and a desk. Kaneki recognises Tsukiyama's laptop on the desk. One of the couches has a comforter folded atop of it. 

There's only one other room. Kaneki takes a deep breath. Tries to calm his blood. It doesn't help. He turns the door knobs. Doesn't bother to knock. The doors swing open easily despite their weight to a truly massive bedroom with the largest canopy bed Kaneki has ever seen. It isn't, despite everything that's happened, what Kaneki expected. It makes him draw up short, frozen in the doorway. 

Tsukiyama is sitting up in the middle of the giant bed, books and papers surrounding him. He has a highlighter in hand and a pen in between his teeth. He's wearing a heavy dressing robe that looks as thick as a winter comforter. In the giant bed in the gigantic room, he seems impossibly small. Like Alice after drinking the potion. 

Does that, Kaneki's mind asks with a note of hysteria, make Kaneki the rabbit?

"Kanae," Tsukiyama says around the highlighter, not looking up from whatever is in his lap, "come in. I've told you a thousand times you needn't linger in the door."

Kaneki grimaces. The faint hysteria shafts against the betrayal. Kaneki cracks his knuckles.

"I'm not Kanae."

Tsukiyama jolts. Bites straight through the pen in his mouth. It make him cough and spit, ink splattering everywhere. Despite himself, Kaneki winces. Tsukiyama swears, a stream of the most impolite mix of languages that Kaneki will ever hear. Tsukiyama yanks the papers out of his lap, holding them up as he looks around wildly for somewhere to put them. 

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, a shrill noise as he sets the papers off to the far side of the bed, "you're -!"

He cuts himself off with a disgusted noise; he's swallowed some of the ink. Kaneki steps forward as Tsukiyama flails around on the bed until he's able to push the books and papers out of the way and get out. There's something very odd about how he moves. A shivering unsteadiness. It stops Kaneki from closing in and leave Kaneki hovers awkwardly, suddenly unsure as he watches Tsukiyama make his way unevenly to the desk where a water pitcher and glass sit. It makes him look at Tsukiyama. See him.

Kaneki wishes he hadn't.

Even though Banjou warned him and discounting the ink splatter, Tsukiyama looks bad. His hair looks like it was brushed fairly recently, but it's unstyled and wild. There's shadows under his eyes. His lips look chapped, more purple than red. Kaneki can see the individual bones in his wrists and hands. He's pale and drawn, cheekbones and jaw far too prominent. This couldn't have happened in the five days between the CCG raid and Kaneki waking here. Tsukiyama would have had to be in this condition when he came to Kaneki on the rooftop. When Kanae knocked Kaneki out. Kaneki was completely unaware. Delusional, even.

"I heard you were awake," Tsukiyama says as he pours himself a glass of water. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to greet you."

Kaneki shakes his head. Crosses to stand several passes from Tsukiyama as he drinks down a few gulps of water. He's supporting himself against the desk with his right hand. He's completely tense. Kaneki would have thought it was fear, except he can see now that Tsukiyama's pupils are widening and contracting. He's having trouble focusing. It makes Kaneki worried, despite himself, that Tsukiyama might faint. 

"Kanae said you've been indisposed."

It makes Tsukiyama laugh lowly as he sets down the glass. He rests his left hand against the desk as well. He must be dizzy.

"I take it Kanae doesn't know you're here."

Kaneki shakes his head. Tsukiyama pulls out the chair at the desk, sitting down heavily in it. He looks at Kaneki for the first time. It's a weary, almost dispassionate gaze. It would make Kaneki's blood boil over except for the lack of focus. Kaneki wonders if Tsukiyama can even see him right now.

"I'm surprised you're still here," Tsukiyama says, and he sounds exactly how he looks: faint and more than a little sick. "I would have thought I'd be the last person you'd want to see."

It makes Kaneki grit his teeth. He's so angry with Tsukiyama. But if he's going to be angry with Tsukiyama, he'll have to be angry with everyone. He'll hurt everyone. Again. It's the broken record of Kaneki's life.

Tsukiyama blinks. Drops his gaze. Down into his lap. It's like that time he came back drunk to that apartment they called home. He'd played with his car keys until Banjou forced him to eat. Tsukiyama looks like he needs someone to force him to eat right now.

"I'm not going to fight," he says, lacing his fingers together; his thumbs rub against each other as his lips twist. "Not like I can at this stage."

There's no victory. Kaneki shuts his eyes. Raises his fists and presses his knuckles against his eyes. He can feel hot tears welling up. Tsukiyama won the gamble, but they've both lost the war.

_A favour to Yoshimura-san._

What if Yoshimura hadn't used the favour Tsukiyama owed him on Kaneki? What if he had used it when he needed it the most to defend Anteiku? Yoshimura would be safe. So would Touka, Yomo, Koma, and Irimi. Maybe Anteiku itself couldn't be saved, but Tsukiyama can hide people. He's created so many different identities. They wouldn't be missing and probably dead. If only Kaneki hadn't been so selfish. If only -

Kaneki opens his eyes. Tsukiyama isn't looking at him. He's looking out the window beyond the desk. Kaneki can see his bone structure very clearly. HIs cheeks are sunken, and his eyes are hollow. From an objective point of view, he looks terrible. Kaneki cannot be objective. He never has been able to be objective with Tsukiyama. To Kaneki, Tsukiyama is always so very beautiful.

"I hate this," Kaneki whispers, but with so much force it should be a shout. "I wish I could hate you. But I don't."

Tsukiyama doesn't respond. His gaze remains on the window. It's windy outside. The window is ornamental, split by iron-wrought designs. Tsukiyama's eyes aren't focused. As the silence stretches, Kaneki's skin starts to crawl. It's unnatural.

There's a banging. Kaneki whips around. There's a man standing in the doorway to Tsukiyama's room. Middle-aged. Glasses. Greying hair still speckled with the memory of purple. Kanae appears almost immediately, lips parted and eyes alarmed. Kanae hovers awkwardly two paces behind the man in the door. It's Kanae's terror that makes Kaneki's guard go up in earnest.

"Father."

The man smiles. Close-lipped. Polite. Completely unreadable. It makes Kaneki's skin crawl. This is Tsukiyama's father? They do look a bit alike, but they seem to have absolutely no similarity in temperament. Kaneki looks around to Tsukiyama, but he's still looking out the window. His expression is possibly even further away. Kaneki nearly reaches out to shake him.

"Shuu-kun," Tsukiyama's father says, and it's in a warm but somehow odd tone. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Tsukiyama smiles. He finally draws his gaze away from the window. To the desktop. He places his hands on it. Pushes himself up. Kaneki can tell that it makes Tsukiyama dizzy again, but Tsukiyama turns, hands resting at his sides. He meets his father's gaze, smile shifting. Pleasant. Placid. Fake.

And Kaneki knows: this is what Tsukiyama is afraid of at home.

"I am well enough," Tsukiyama says, which is a blatant lie; how could Kaneki have missed just how frequently Tsukiyama lies even though it's so blatant it's astounding. "You are here for the Ajinomoto analysis, yes?"

The man nods. Tsukiyama moves back to his bed. Climbs onto it and sorts through the papers. The man crosses over to stand on the far end of the bed to Kaneki. It exposes Kanae, who remains in the doorway. Kanae is trying very hard to stand still, but it just makes the body rock slightly. Wavering back and forth. It's the most distressed Kaneki has seen Kanae. It's unnerving, even though Kaneki knows logically that Kanae is young and likely has all the same follies as Tsukiyama. 

"Ah," Tsukiyama murmurs, pulling out a large clipped stack of papers and flipping up the cover page, "here it is. What do you need from it?"

The man looks at Kaneki. He doesn't say anything, and his glasses are so thick they obscure his eyes. Tsukiyama blinks, catching onto the pause. He looks up as well. First to his father and then following his gaze to Kaneki. He blinks again. His expression and its polite, meaningless smile doesn't change. 

"I'm sorry, Kaneki-san, but my father and I have business. Would you mind terribly to come back later?"

Kaneki doesn't want to leave Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama is afraid. He's not able to fight back. Kaneki might be angry with Tsukiyama, but he does not hate him. Kaneki knows it shows in his face. His stance. His demeanor. Tsukiyama blinks. He sighs, looking back down at the papers.

"Kanae, please escort Kaneki-san out."

It's a command. A dismissal. Kanae steps into the room, probably to try and take Kaneki by force. Kaneki inclines his head. Accepts. He doesn't really have a choice. He moves to join Kanae at the door, very aware of Tsukiyama's father's gaze following his back. Tsukiyama doesn't look up from the papers. Kanae steps aside for Kaneki to step out before following, shutting the door behind. 

"Please follow me, Kaneki-san," Kanae says. 

When Kaneki looks, Kanae's face is bland and empty. It's extremely disconcerting on someone like Kanae, who is so naturally expressive. They walk back down the hall. Down the main staircase. They turn right at the base, heading through more doors and into an unfamiliar hall. 

"This -"

Kanae's head shakes. Kaneki grits his teeth. Cracks his knuckles. Kanae ignores him, reaching in the back pocket instead to fish out keys. 

"Kanae -"

It makes Kanae whip around. Kanae's kakugan blossom, lips twisting and fingers gripping the keys so hard they're in danger of warping.

"Shut up!" Kanae shouts, and it cracks; there are tears in the eyes. "Just shut up!"

Kanae turns around. Continues walking as the hand on the keyring forces itself to unclench. The ring is bent out of shape, but the keys haven't been damaged. Kaneki follows after a moment, watching as Kanae reaches up with the free hand to the network of veins standing out due to the kakugan activation. Kanae feels the contours, finger twitching awkwardly.

"Han-sensei," Kaneki hears Kanae mutter.

There's more words, but they're in German. Kanae's comes in front of a large door, fiddling to get the right key, continuing to mutter and trace the network of kakugan veins. It's a little unnerving, since Kaneki senses Kanae is holding a completely self-contained conversation. It occurs to Kanae, in the belated way he finds he has, that Kanae is under a lot of stress. Kanae hates Kaneki. That is probably exasperating the stress.

Kanae gets the door open. Pushes it open. A gust of warm air makes Kaneki blink a couple of times. It's a greenhouse. Kaneki follows after Kanae, looking around it. He knows his mouth is slightly open. The house is one thing, but this is beautiful. There are rows of roses, neatly cultivated into rich bushes that seem to pulse with their vibrancy. The walls have vines, but they aren't haphazard or thick like Kaneki has seen in other greenhouses. They're all green and full of life and colour. It looks healthy and warm and welcoming. It's the first place in this house Kaneki has felt like is alive.

"This is beautiful."

There's the sound of metal. Kaneki looks over to see that Kanae has pulled out a watering can and is standing next to a deep basin. The way Kanae regards Kaneki is very odd. Kanae's kakugan are still showing, but the expression isn't threatening. It's guarded. 

"It is."

Kanae turns away. Places the watering can in the basin. Fiddles with the faucets. Kaneki takes a couple of steps forward. The closest bushes have recent clippings taken from them. It's a rose bush with deep pink blooms. The roses by Tsukiyama's bed. Kanae must be bringing him flowers. They both adore roses. Kanae is trying to keep Tsukiyama's spirits up.

Kaneki forces himself to look up. Away from this uncomfortable insight. Kanae is leaning with both hands on the basin, head bowed over it and the watering can. The water from the faucet splashes into the metal can.

"Kanae."

A disinterested but acknowledging noise. Kanae reaches to a cannister on the basin. Kaneki watches Kanae add a few shakes of whatever is in it to the watering can.

"What is Tsukiyama and his father's relationship like?"

Kanae doesn't say anything. Even though Kaneki knew that this was probably pushing his luck, especially with Kanae of all people, it's still irritating. Kaneki watches as Kanae returns the cannister and turns the faucet off. Lifts the watering can out. Kaneki has to try very hard not to crack his knuckles.

"What are you doing?"

Kanae moves over to the row one over from Kaneki. Tips the watering can forward. A light shower comes out. Kaneki crackles his knuckles.

"Watering the flowers."

It's a bland tone. Not at all like Kanae. Kanae's left hand rests at the small of the back. Gaze down on the bush. Kaneki walks around to stand across from Kanae. It doesn't make Kanae lift the head. Kanae's gaze is very far away.

"At a time like this?"

It makes Kanae look up. Glare. Kaneki doesn't know whether to be happy or angry about it. At least it's an emotion. Kaneki feels like he's been stuffed into a world full of superficiality and nothingness.

"I am a servant."

Kaneki stares. Kanae looks down again, sidestepping to the next bush. The watering can's light shower makes a small arc in the air with the movement. Kaneki cracks his knuckles again.

"He loves you like a brother."

The change in Kanae is so swift that Kaneki takes a step back instinctively. The watering can smashes into the floor. It crumples upon itself with a horrendous clang. The tiles crack beneath it. Kanae stares at Kaneki, kakugan and vein structure stark. Kaneki would be drawing his kagune if it wasn't for Kanae's expression. It's familiar. The despair there is something Kaneki has seen in the mirror far too many times to count. 

"Well, I'm not!" It's shrill and cracked and shockingly young; there are tears streaking down Kanae's cheeks. "I'm a cousin. I'm a servant. Shuu-sama and I: we can never be equals. No matter how much you love someone, you can't change who you are! And I--I am -"

Kanae dips forward. Presses fingers against the kakugan vein network. Something's wrong with it, Kaneki realises. It's too prominent. Kanae continues to rant, but it's in German. Kaneki can't understand. Kaneki regrets this. Kaneki regrets everything.

"Kanae," and it burns, somehow worse than anything yet, "I'm sorry."

Laughter. High and fragmented and completely unhinged. Kanae doesn't look up. Continues to kneel on the tile, the water from the crushed can soaking into the knees. Kanae's eyes are screwed shut. Tears and mucus streak down, dripping into the puddle. 

"The only reason," Kanae says, and it's harsh and dangerous and makes Kaneki's skin crawl, "I didn't smother you in your sleep is that Shuu-sama _needs_ you and I am -"

Kanae cuts off with a strangled noise. Kaneki doesn't know what to do. Kanae curls forward, hands clutching the head. Like Kanae is trying to prevent it from splitting apart.

"You've put me in this absurd position," and Kanae is ranting, completely unhinged in a frighteningly lucid way, "where I have to let Shuu-sama hurt himself to _help_ him. Do you have any idea how this feels? _Ich_ \--I, I, I'm not, not the person who fixes things, so this is--you are, are _are_ intolerable! I should have killed you. It is my right. But you -? How dare you? How -"

Kanae dissolves into a nattering spiel of German. Even though Kaneki doesn't like Kanae, it makes Kaneki's heart twist. He never wanted to see Kanae like this. Kaneki never wanted to see anyone like this. If Tsukiyama knew that Kanae was in this state, Kaneki wouldn't be surprised if Tsukiyama killed him. Kanae is the person that Tsukiyama holds most dear. If Tsukiyama had ever put Hinami in this state, Kaneki wouldn't have forgiven him. Tsukiyama would never have done that. He isn't Kaneki.

Eventually, Kanae's ranting tapers off. Kanae kneels in the water and broken tile. Still crying. Eyes shut and fingertips pressed against the network of veins that support kakugan. Kanae rocks slightly, breathing faintly audible in the greenhouse. From the set of Kanae's jaw and how delicately Kanae is moving fingers over the veins, something has to be wrong with the vein network. It shouldn't look so red. Swollen. Kaneki takes a deep breath. 

"Ka -"

"Go," Kanae says, high and wretched and terribly young.

Kaneki shakes his head. "No -"

"Go!" Kanae repeats, louder and higher and worse than before. "Go away, go away, _go away_ -"

Kaneki stumbles back. Rushes back through the greenhouse door and into the house. It's only after the door bangs shut behind Kaneki that he realises his mistake. He's left Kanae alone. He left Tsukiyama alone. He left Hinami, Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante alone. Kaneki's greatest fear is being alone. Yet he inflicts it upon others without a second thought. 

_Why did you have to change?_

Kaneki shuts his eyes. Brings his hands up to his mouth. He can feel himself trembling. Shivering. He feels like something is trying to make its way out. It's not Rize. It's not Yamori. It's not even the centipede that tried to burrow into his ear.

It's himself.

 

Kaneki is lost. 

It's both the truth of the matter and a metaphor for his situation. Kaneki isn't sure where he is or how long he's been wandering around the house. Outside, it's pelting rain. There will be flooding in parts of the city. Here, raindrops hit the windows that rattle faintly in the high winds. Kaneki wanders barefoot in circles, looking out of the beautiful house at the beautiful grounds soaked in rain.

This is the world that Tsukiyama grew up in. The world that Tsukiyama rules. 

"Kaneki-san."

A woman's voice. Kaneki turns. Matsumae is standing in the doorway to a lit room. With her dark colouring and wearing the uniform of a servant, the light at her back makes her look ominous. 

"This is the third time you've come by," she says, and it's the pleasant, placid tone that Kaneki knows well enough to hate. "Are you lost?"

Yes, but Kaneki doesn't want to tell her that. She doesn't need him to answer, though. She steps into the hallway, extending an arm to indicate the lit interior.

"Come in."

There's not excuse. Kaneki turns fully. Steps forward to the room. He turns, stepping forward to enter.

"Kaneki-san."

Tsukiyama's father is sitting in an armchair by a side table where a bottle of wine and a glass sits. He's looking at Kaneki, but his glasses are so thick that the bright lighting in the room obscures his eyes. It's a trap.

"My apologies," Mirumo says, standing and crossing to stand in front of Kaneki; he extends his hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. I am Tsukiyama Mirumo."

Kaneki stares at the hand. Looks back up. Mirumo waits patiently. Kaneki thinks of Tsukiyama, the scent of fear rolling off of him. Mirumo's expression is bland. Placid. Empty. It's terrifying.

Mirumo drops his hand. He turns, moving towards the window. At Kaneki's back, Matsumae remains in the doorway. She isn't blocking the way, but it might as well be shut. Mirumo looks out the window, head tilted slightly down. Kaneki has no idea what he could be looking at.

"Shuu-kun tells me you're very strong," Mirumo says.

It's a polite, conversational tone that Kaneki cannot read at all. When Tsukiyama and Kanae have used similar tones, there's always been something to them that made the words feel alive and natural. From Mirumo, it's like the air is speaking. There is no weight, but it's undeniably there. Kaneki's skin crawls.

"Tsu -"

"Please," Mirumo says without turning around, "call me Mirumo."

Kaneki swallows. His heart hammers in his ears. He almost nods before he realises Mirumo cannot see it.

"Mirumo-san."

"You," Mirumo says, and there is nothing there, "mean a lot to Shuu-kun."

Kaneki's mouth hangs open. Runs dry. Mirumo doesn't move. He stands still at the window, looking down over the estate. The grand lawn, the gardens, the tiled paths. With his greying hair and tall stature, he looks like a faded version of Tsukiyama but with none of the warmth. Kaneki can see in that moment why Tsukiyama is needed. Why Tsukiyama bears the family name to the outside and inner world.

Tsukiyama is the heart and soul of the house.

"I am a father," Mirumo says, "who loves his son."

It's not an excuse. It's the truth. Mirumo loves Tsukiyama. There is no reason for him to lie about that. But if Kaneki has learned anything from all of this, love is not enough. Mirumo does not have the presence that Tsukiyama has. It is clear that Mirumo is acknowledged in the house, but he doesn't carry the respect and adoration as Tsukiyama. Kaneki doesn't know anything about how Tsukiyama grew up. He only knows that Tsukiyama rarely mentioned his father and only ever in context of others. Kaneki knows more about someone named Setsuna who took care of Mirumo than he knows about Mirumo. 

Kaneki takes a step back. Another. Mirumo doesn't look to him. Kaneki wonders, with a sudden flash of insight, if this is what Tsukiyama knows. That, more than anything that has been said, explains a lot. It makes Kaneki feel cold.

"Excuse me." 

Mirumo inclines his head without looking at Kaneki. Kaneki swallows. Takes a step back and then another. He reaching behind to open the door. Step out into the hallway. Past Matsumae, who steps within. She looks at Kaneki. Her eyes are dark brown, almost black.

"Please," Mirumo says, "shut the door behind you." 

Kaneki nods. He pushes it shut. 

Kaneki swallows. Turns.

He doesn't run. 

It is all that is left of Kaneki's pride.

 

For a long time after that, Kaneki wanders.

He's not lost. He simply doesn't have anywhere to go. 

It's pointless for him to leave. Anteiku is gone. The 20th Ward is in lockdown. Kaneki would go to try to look for Touka and Yomo or even get in contact with Uta and Itori, but that would mean leaving Hinami, Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, and Sante in this house of which Kaneki understands so little. None of Kaneki does understand is good. It would mean leaving Tsukiyama, who holds all the power in the situation but is in so poor condition that he's at the mercy of others. It would mean leaving Kanae, who Kaneki doesn't like but doesn't want to leave to the mercy of the house any more than Tsukiyama. Kanae is faithful to Tsukiyama. Tsukiyama cannot protect himself at the moment, let alone Kanae and everyone else. If Kaneki leaves now, Kanae will chase him down. Kaneki will endanger Kanae. Tsukiyama will never forgive Kaneki. Tsukiyama holds all that Kaneki knows still exists and holds dear.

Kaneki cannot do anything. He cannot leave. He cannot fix what has come to pass. He cannot be a person who protects. Kaneki is powerless.

It's exactly what Kaneki didn't want.

Kaneki comes upon a room with double doors. It's quiet on this side of the house. The air smells faintly stale from disuse. Kaneki reaches out and finds the doors are unlocked. He pushes it open and then stands in the doorway. His lips part.

The room is massive. It's made of highly polished floors and floor to ceiling windows throughout the walls that are not attached to the main house. There's a grand piano in the middle of the room, and there are various other musical instruments on stands. There's a trunk and a bookshelf unit full of music. Kaneki reaches to the side of the doors. Turns on the lights. It turns the entire room into bright, warm glowing place. It's wholly different from the rest of the house. It's like stepping into the sun.

It's the most beautiful place Kaneki has ever seen.

_I wanted to study music_

Slowly, Kaneki crosses over to the piano. It's dusted and shines. The bench is leather and plush. Kaneki knows if he pulled it out, it would still sit at Tsukiyama's height. Kaneki looks up and around the room again. Up at the high ceilings. He wonders how many hours Tsukiyama spent here growing up. Kanae must have joined Tsukiyama, if they know each other's voices well enough to sing together. In a room like this, with such good lighting and such beautiful architecture, it would be stunning. Tsukiyama must have been happy, the hours he spent in this room. 

_Maybe one day I'll get to play something for you_

Kaneki swallows. Closes his eyes. He thinks of that car ride. Liszt. Chopin. Scarlatti. A harpsichord for the last. A soft, rose-scented kiss. A sweet taste. A little sharp.

 _I think_ , Kaneki had said, _I'd like that._

Kaneki is a fool.

 

Kaneki's wanderings have brought him back to Tsukiyama's rooms. Tsukiyama's bedroom doors are open. Like he's waiting for someone. Kaneki stands for a very long time in the hallway, listening to the faint sounds of the storm outside.

There is nowhere else for Kaneki to go. There never was.

Kaneki steps forward. Left foot. Right. He places his hand on the door knobs, pulling them open again. Tsukiyama looks up, a book in his hands. He's in bed, sitting up against the headboard and pillows. The bedding has been cleaned, and it looks like Tsukiyama has changed his robe. He blinks, fringe shadowing his left eye. 

"Tsukiyama-san."

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, and he smiles, still so beautiful. "Come in."

Left foot. Right. Kaneki feels like he's in a dream. It's not good or bad. It's simply a dream.

"I'm sorry I cannot get up to greet you," Tsukiyama says as Kaneki crosses the room. "Han-sensei was angry to hear I've been up and about."

Kaneki shakes his head. "You're not well," he says, even though it's obvious. "You should rest."

And not be working, Kaneki also wants to add, but it looks like Tsukiyama is just reading for fun. At least Kaneki is fairly sure a book entitled _The Kindly Ones_ with a fairly ominous cover isn't work. At the same time, Kaneki isn't sure if Tsukiyama should be reading something like that right now. Kaneki doesn't know much about Tsukiyama's current mental state, and perhaps he never did, but if Kanae is any indication, it's not great.

Tsukiyama turns a page, his lips slightly lifted in a distracted smile. "I am resting, Kaneki-san."

Bullshit. Kaneki wants to shout it, but that would be counter-intuitive to why Kaneki is here in the first place. He looks to the side. To the bedside table. There are fresh flowers by in the vase. More pink roses with a few white scattered through. Tsukiyama sees Kaneki looking. He smiles, setting aside his book. Thankfully someone appears to be cleaning the bed as there is new bedding and the papers have been cleared away. 

"I talked to Kanae."

Tsukiyama doesn't blink. "I heard," he says, and he lifts his left hand. "Don't stand there so stiffly. Sit."

There isn't anywhere to sit but the bed. For some reason, Tsukiyama's desk chair has disappeared. Kaneki wonders if it's been taken away to prevent Tsukiyama from getting up and moving to it. That's bizarrely controlling. 

"I'd rather stand."

Tsukiyama hums. He looks back to his lap. The pillows at his back keep him propped up, and he's letting them take his weight. He's tired. Kaneki doesn't have time to dither.

Kaneki breathes in deep. Fills his lungs. It burns.

"I will stay," he says, and it comes out thin and harsh and angry, not at all like he'd intended. "I will promise you that. But you need to tell me what is going on. I can't navigate this world."

Tsukiyama smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, but it isn't a cold expression. It's not contemptuous. It's understanding. 

"I'm an anomoly," Tsukiyama says, just like he did back in August when Kaneki wanted so badly for Tsukiyama to love him the same. "But, yes. If you stay, I will try my best. I cannot promise."

That's fair. Kaneki nods. Tsukiyama breathes out. He tilts his head back into the pillows. Looks up at the canopy over the bed. It exposes his neck. The expanse of smooth skin. Even now, after everything that has come to pass, Kaneki wants to lean in. Kiss it. Taste it. Bite.

The door opens. Kaneki whips around. It's Kanae, barefoot and dressed in a dark purple pajama top and matching pants. Kanae's hair is wet and tangled, and the pallor of the skin is so pale it's grey. On the bed, Tsukiyama shifts.

"Kanae, you're early." 

Kanae doesn't respond. Stares at Kaneki for a long moment. Kaneki gets the impression that Kanae wants to say something but can't. There's something odd about the gaze. It takes Kaneki a long moment before he figures it out. Kanae's pupils are so small that the eyes look almost completely maroon. Kanae isn't blinking enough. It makes Kaneki's skin crawl.

"Kaneki-san," Tsukiyama says, drawing Kaneki's attention; Tsukiyama smiles, sad and tired, which doesn't help Kaneki's heart rate at all. "Could you help Kanae over here? It's the painkillers. They're rather strong."

That explains nothing. Still, Kaneki nods. He crosses the room. Stops in front of Kanae, who looks up somewhat belatedly. Kanae blinks sluggishly. 

"You're," Kanae says, slurring as Kaneki reaches out to take Kanae's elbow, "still here."

"Yes," Kaneki says, pulling as gently as he can to make Kanae follow to Tsukiyama's bedside. "I am."

Kanae sighs. Allows Kaneki guide to the bed. Tsukiyama shifts, similarly sluggish, to throw back the covers on the bed. Kanae climbs onto the bed and crawls up to Tsukiyama. Curls up against Tsukiyama's side. Tsukiyama reaches back to take one of the smaller pillows. He hands it to Kanae, who presses it over eyes. Tsukiyama shifts slightly. Pulls the covers back up. He takes a long moment tucking them around Kanae. Kaneki watches as Tsukiyama lies back against the pillows, right hand drifting to rest over Kanae's head. Stroke lightly at the hair.

"I need to turn the lights out soon," Tsukiyama says, looking up to Kaneki again. "But, tomorrow, come back. We will talk."

There are, Kaneki notices now, light switches above the headboard of the bed. Tsukiyama smiles. It's tired and strained and reaches his eyes. Honest. Beautiful.

"Tomorrow," Kaneki says.

Tsukiyama inclines his head. 

"Yes."

Despite all that has come to pass, Kaneki loves him. Love is not enough. Theirs isn't that kind of world. It never will be.

But that doesn't stop Kaneki from dreaming.

 

**Two Years Later, 9th Ward**

The days pass uneventfully.

Kaneki falls into the rhythm of the household. He spends most of his days in the library or, in good weather, out on the estate grounds. He's memorised the perimeter, knows all the comings and goings. Kaneki can come and go as he pleases, but he doesn't often leave the estate except to collect information. Often he works alongside Chie or visits Helter Skelter. Once in blue moon, he encounters Yomo. He avoids Touka.

Hinami sits lessons under Matsumae, Mario, and several other staff members. She's bright and catches up at such a speed that she should be able to sit university entrance examinations. At times, Kanae sits lessons with Hinami, but Kanae has no intention of attending university despite Tsukiyama's encouragement. 

"If I need certifications in the future, then that is for the future," Kaneki overhears Kanae telling Tsukiyama one evening as they get ready for bed. "For now, it is best if we remain close."

It's true. While their days are uneventful, the world outside of the estate is changing. The CCG is growing bolder. There's unrest in multiple wards now due to that. Kaneki has heard talk of a Ghoul Auction that reminds him of the Ghoul Restaurant. There's also whispers about something more heinous. One-eyed ghouls in white suits. Kaneki likes that least of all.

"It could be Kanou, or it could be the CCG," Kaneki says, standing with his arms crossed as Tsukiyama looks over Hori's new photos with Kanae and Mirumo behind his shoulders. "Or it could be something else. But none of it's good.

"No," Tsukiyama agrees, leaning back in his seat and looking over Kaneki's shoulder to Banjou and Matsumae, the latter of whom inclines her head and leaves the room. "I'll inquire into it further. Thank you, Kaneki-kun."

It's not all work. Some evenings, after Tsukiyama is done from work and if Kaneki isn't out, they sit together in the library or in the music room. If it's the music room, Kaneki sits and listens to Tsukiyama play. If it's an exceptionally good day, Kaneki can convince Tsukiyama to sing or play Kaneki something original. On bad days, Tsukiyama plays in reflection of his mood; Kaneki has come to dread Chopin. Kanae will play the violin with Tsukiyama in the days between. They've been speaking recently about obtaining a harpsichord or clavichord. Kaneki is fairly sure they'll decide on which and have it ordered by Christmas.

If it's the library, sometimes they sit in silence, reading their respective books. Other times, they talk. It's not just about books. They discuss the minutiae of the household. The goings on of the outside world that isn't threatening or troubling. Kaneki listens to Tsukiyama bemoan dinner parties. Tsukiyama listens to Kaneki ramble on about the world he no longer belongs to. 

"Yomo-san said that they're thinking of opening a new coffee shop." 

It makes Tsukiyama look up from his book. He frowns slightly. Kaneki leans back in his armchair, feet up against the edge of the footstool.

"They want to call it ':re.' It'll have a community book exchange. Yomo-san wants to serve the same beans that Yoshimura-san once did."

Tsukiyama closes his book. He settles back on the couch, reaching back and pulling the throw on the back around his shoulders. He gets cold easily, even though he eats routinely now that Kanae and Matsumae now control harvesting. Occasionally, Tsukiyama takes a day off from work and hunts for himself. No one likes it, including Kaneki. Tsukiyama is careful, but it's bad for security. 

"Why do you have me here if you won't listen to me?" Kaneki asked, having lost his temper the last time Tsukiyama went hunting a fortnight ago. "Is something wrong with what Kanae and Matsumae brought back?"

"Nothing's wrong," Tsukiyama said, but there was an edge to his tone, a petulant edge that sometimes rears its head when Tsukiyama is stressed and acting out. "It's natural for a ghoul to hunt."

"Maybe," Kaneki said, but it had only made him more angry to have Tsukiyama passive-aggressively reference Kaneki's half-nature. "But you're the safe haven. You can't leave us. So don't you dare."

The look Tsukiyama had given Kaneki at those words was devastated. Kaneki had finally hit on the heart of the issue. The Tsukiyama family runs the 9th Ward's safe haven. From what Kaneki understands, the family supports networks of ghouls throughout Tokyo and Japan and possibly abroad. Tsukiyama, as the head of the family, has become the most precious piece. Not just to Kaneki, who continues to hold a candle to Tsukiyama, but for hundreds, possibly thousands of others. 

"I didn't," Tsukiyama says as Kaneki climbs into bed next to him later that evening, "want this."

Kaneki doesn't say anything as he lies down under the covers. Kanae is already asleep, curled up against Tsukiyama's right side. Lately, Kanae has been suffering from migraines again, which is why Kanae is back in Tsukiyama's bed. If this had been a year ago, Kaneki would have found it awkward to share Tsukiyama's bed with Kanae. Then again, a year ago Kaneki would have thought it crazy to share Tsukiyama's bed at all. 

They didn't intend to start this. What lies between them now has no name. It started on a night when Kaneki was so tired that he fell asleep on the foot of Tsukiyama's bed, waiting for Tsukiyama to be finished writing up some sort of report. It slowly transformed into a routine so regular that Kaneki's room is collecting dust since he doesn't allow any of the household staff to clean it. Tsukiyama hasn't chased him out, and Kaneki is loathe to give up this little opening, this piece he can almost call his own.

"We should visit the new coffeeshop," Hinami says, "after they've opened for business."

They're sitting in the library of the Tsukiyama mansion. Kaneki doesn't take his gaze from the window. Kanae and Matsumae are discussing something along with Banjou. Kaneki's gaze tracks Tsukiyama's form as he laps around the perimeter of the estate for the fifth time, earbuds in. He does this every morning, ten laps. When he comes in, Kaneki joins him and Banjou in the basement training room. It's their routine, carried over from the house they called a home.

"All of us," Hinami continues, turning a page in her book. "What do you think, Kaneki-niisan?"

Kaneki breathes in. The air smells of the roses on the reading table and the paper of the books. The dregs of their coffee, long finished and set aside. It is familiar. Almost comforting. Kaneki breathes out.

"Yes," he says, "that does sound nice."

 

**Time?, Place?, Future? Hopes dreams _life_**

Years on, Tsukiyama Ayumi will sit with rotting papers and dusty harddrives and write:  


    As today, ghouls were a minority in society. In comparison to the rest of the human population, ghouls had never been numerous enough to be a demographic threat. Since the 1950s until the 2010s, most societies and cultures considered ghouls to be violent nuissances, characterised by animal characteristics and antisocial behaviour. They weren't regulated to freakshows or pressed onto the front lines as they had been in the early modern period, but they certainly weren't considered human despite sharing the same genetic code. In most countries, there were national laws segregating the ghoul population. Many countries had national organisations, like the infamous Japanese Commission of Counter Ghoul, which existed for the explicit purpose of exterminating the ghoul population. This fostered an insular community based on tennents of secrecy and oral tradition. To this day, despite great changes and a slow and ongoing road to ghoul and human cooperation, ghouls are reluctant to speak to non-ghouls about their pasts, even as their history and memory begin to die out.

She reads back over the paragraph. Stands up in disgust. 

"That doesn't cover it at all."

In the chair by the window, her most recent interviewee looks over. He smiles a little, hand resting atop the blankets covering his lap. Ayumi tries hard, but the missing arm has never been something she got used to.

"It's alright," Kaneki says, moving to stand up with a grimace. "Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. You'll get it right eventually."

Ayumi moves to help him, but Kaneki waves her off. He places the blanket back over the chair's seat before stretching. They're getting old. Ayumi will be sixty in a few days. Kaneki is fifty-four.

"I'll try again," Kaneki says as he accepts Ayumi's help with his coat, "with my better half and Kanae, since Kanae will be back for Golden Week. I know you need at least one session with both of them if you're going to get closer to a complete story."

Ayumi nods, helping Kaneki to buckle the winter coat. "I fully understand their reluctance," she says, moving to assist Kaneki with pinning the empty sleeve and getting waved off.

"Yes, well," Kaneki grimaces as he gets the pin secure, "Shuu needs to take more time off of work, and I can only pitch it to him if I'm giving him something to do. Kanae... Well, if Shuu comes, Kanae will. You'll have to take them together."

They move towards the door. Ayumi opens it and Kaneki steps out. For a moment, Kaneki stands in the hall. He looks up and down it, a faint sense of disconnect in his demeanour, before he shakes himself. It makes his thinning hair flutter. It's has been white for so many years that Ayumi has almost forgotten it wasn't naturally that way. 

Kaneki straights. Squares his shoulders. Smiles. 

"Ah," he breathes, "I'm late to dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mix to accompany this fic is [here](http://8tracks.com/west-francia/making-stock).


End file.
